Day of the Black Snow
by Dictator4Life
Summary: In which Katara doesn't leave when Kya tells her to, and reveals her bending to Yon Rha. Captured and taken to the Fire Nation, she becomes a gladiator for the amusement of the court. As she trains under a former champion and avoids the dangerous attentions of the royal family, Katara must choose between her identity and her life in the arena.
1. Different Choice, Different Fate

_Standard disclaimers apply._

 _Hello! I've never written fic for this fandom before, so I'm really excited and kind of nervous. Please let me know how I can improve!_

 _In this fic, I'm basing the Southern Water Tribe on the Alutiiq peoples. I've dropped in a few terms in their language, as well. You can find a glossary at the bottom. I know that everyone shares a language in canon, but my headcanon is that a common language was only developed after the four nations came into contact with each other, and that they will still use different terms, occasionally, within their own cultures._

 _If you want to know more, a great resource is alutiiqmuseum dot org_

 _I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Sooty flakes fell from the sky, and the hubbub of village life came to a brief but eerie halt. A child's laughter died in her throat, the glee fading from her face at the expression on her brother's.

They both knew what this meant, although neither of them could remember seeing it. The last of the raids had been before their time, taking their tribe's last trained Waterbenders with it. However, ever since Katara had first moved the snow without touching it, they had been drilled extensively on what they had to do if it ever happened again.

"I'm gonna go find _aana_ ," Katara said, and took off in the direction of her family's igloo, as Sokka ran with the older warriors to confront the raiders. Katara was too young to fight, but it was only her worry for her mother that kept her from following him. _She_ was the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe; it was her duty to protect them. And she would, as soon as she found her mother.

Katara burst through the flap of their igloo with an anxious cry of, " _Aana_!" She stopped short, staring at the red and black monster that loomed over her mother.

"Just let her go," Kya said, with forced calm, calling the monster's attention back to herself, "and I'll give you the information you want."

"You heard your mother. Get out of here!" it snapped.

Katara jumped, but stood her ground. " _Aana_ …I'm scared…"

"Go find your _ataa, cingaq_ ," Kya said, using Katara's nickname in the way she had when she was very small, and still needed to be comforted during storms. "I'll handle this."

Katara obeyed hesitantly, but lingered to the side of the entrance. Sokka was ten and already defending the village, and he wasn't even a Waterbender! She had to do her part, too, and make sure her mother was safe, no matter how scared she was. What if it tried to take her away? What if she couldn't get to her father in time? She had to stay here.

It was hard to hear through the shouting of the warriors and the raiders, not to mention the blood pounding in her ears, but Katara's heart stopped when her mother claimed to be the last Waterbender. Why was she lying? She was going to get taken away!

"I'm afraid I'm not taking prisoners today," the monster drawled, and then came a flash of searing heat and a shrill scream —

" _AANA_!"

Katara ran straight into the blaze.

The igloo smelled like burnt meat and copper. Her mother lay face down on the floor, red seeping into the ice beneath her, her hair still smoldering. The monster stood above her, smoke curling from his raised fists.

Acting on instinct, Katara seized the snow now drifting through the hole where their pretty blue flap, now incinerated, had been. It responded and turned to fluid as it flew towards her mother and doused her. The monster whipped around, surprised, but Katara took advantage of his wide bending stance and scrambled between his legs to reach Kya's prone body.

Acting on instinct, she pulled the water towards her once more and rolled her mother over, setting glowing blue hands against the mess of blood and melted skin where her face had been, apologizing tearfully when her mother cried out, garbled and choked with blood.

"So her brat is a bender too, huh…" the monster said, sounding almost amused. "The gods are not smiling upon you, little one. Poor luck for you, to awaken in front of me."

Katara turned to glare, filled with rage and breathless, overwhelming fear. "She's _not_ a bender! She was lying!" She never moved her hands from what had been her mother's face.

"Oh? Your mother was a courageous woman, then. Foolish, but courageous."

Katara bit back a sob, and tried not to drip tears on the burn, knowing that the salt would sting.

"I know I said I wasn't taking prisoners, but this is a different matter. Agni would not approve of the murder of a child," it muttered. "You're coming with me, brat."

The monster snatched the collar of her parka and dragged her from her mother, grimacing at her screams. The glowing blue water dropped from her hands as her arms were grabbed and tied roughly behind her back.

Katara kicked and fought, trying desperately to reach Kya, but her legs were given the same treatment as her arms, and then a gag silenced her wails. She wriggled like a fish, but to no avail. The monster threw her over its shoulder like a dead tiger seal, and took off towards its metal ships at a dead run.

A few of the women noticed and tried to help, but were warded off with jets of flame. Katara bounced on its spiky metal shoulder and tried very hard not to be sick. All she could smell was burnt meat and hair, and all she could see was red.

"Hey!" came a shrill voice, and teary blue eyes met a pair just like her own. Sokka was chasing them fruitlessly, panicked and angry. "Where are you taking my _nayak_?!" He flung his boomerang, but his aim was off. The monster didn't even notice. He leapt aboard the largest ship, ordering his men to follow.

Katara was handed off to an underling who took her below deck and tossed her into a cell without bothering to untie the ropes. As the ship shuddered back to life, Katara curled into herself on the too-warm metal floor and sobbed.

* * *

The attack had ended as swiftly as it began. By the time the tribe reached their own ships, the Southern Raiders were long gone.

" _Ataa_! _Ataa_!" A voice screamed, and Hakoda turned from where he was conferring with Bato about where the raiders were most likely headed to catch Sokka, who had practically thrown himself at him.

" _Aqsaq_ , what — "

"They took her!" Sokka wailed, and Hakoda's blood turned to ice. "They took Katara!"

"Sokka, how do you know?" he asked urgently, kneeling and taking his son by the shoulders.

"I saw them! She was tied up and then the guy carrying her took her on the ship — "

Without another word, Hakoda picked up Sokka and sprinted for the village, leaving his warriors to follow.

When he arrived, Hakoda was swarmed by worried women, but their anxious queries went ignored. "Where is Kya?" he barked, and an ashen-faced woman with scorched furs answered.

"She's in the healing hut, with Kanna."

Hakoda handed his wailing son to her and ran once more.

He was met at the door by his mother, with lips drawn tight and blood on her hands. "What happened?" he demanded.

"She was badly burned. She's not as bad as she could be, though. Katara must have tried to heal her before — " Her voice broke.

Hakoda pushed past her into the hut, doing his best not to disturb the two healers working over his wife. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of what had been done to her, and he settled in for a long vigil.

* * *

Kya died early the next morning, long before the sun rose. After she did, he walked out of the village walls, into the icy wastes beyond, dropped to his knees, and howled.

Later, he would comfort his son. Later, he would rebuild his village. But at that moment, Hakoda gave himself over to his grief and let bitter tears freeze on his skin.

* * *

 _Ataa: father_

 _Aana: mother_

 _Nayak: little sister_

 _Katara's nickname is cingaq, which means kiss. If you can think of a better one, please tell me! It was originally gonna be fish. :/_

 _Sokka's is aqsaq, which means belly. I thought that would be cute, because he's always so hungry._

 _Nicknames are big with the Alutiiq! They're especially common with children, but can follow a person into adulthood. They're usually based on favorite activities or a particularly fond/funny memory._

 _Anyway, I hope you liked it! Lemme know if you're interested in reading the rest._


	2. Arrival

_I don't think there are a lot of people interested in this AU. Luckily for this story, I still am! I don't know for how long, but for the time being, here's another chapter. It's pretty much just description/internal monologue, but there'll be more dialogue and character interaction once Katara finds people she actually wants to talk to._

 _Just to be clear, this will be following Katara for a while. Zuko will show up in a few chapters. Sorry, Zuko fans, but Katara's my fave so I'm focusing on her exclusively for now._

* * *

Katara waited for what felt like a full day, if not more. Her arms and legs were stiff, her hands numb. She had slept for a few fitful hours, and drooled on the floor, unable to stop herself because of the gag. Without anyone to take her to the bathroom, she had wet her pants, which made her eyes sting and her face burn with shame. She hadn't done that since she was three!

She was so thirsty.

Eventually, someone came clomping down the metal stairs, and made a noise of disgust at the smell. They went back up, making Katara whimper with both relief and disappointment. Would they leave her down here forever?

The person returned a few minutes later, carrying something she couldn't make out. She couldn't even see their face from her position on the floor. Something jangled, and the bars slid to one side, and then closed behind them.

"All right, kid, up you get," they said gruffly, in a man's voice. He pulled her up into a sitting position, undid her ropes, and took out the gag.

"I wanna go home," Katara whimpered hoarsely, as soon as she could speak.

"Tough luck. Change into this, and you'll get food and water." Something thumped to the floor beside her.

Katara, still sore, undressed slowly. The man was kind enough to turn his back, allowing a modicum of privacy, although Katara was too young and too overwhelmed to worry much about such a thing. She hesitated to remove her parka, because her _emaa-emaa_ had sewn it for her, but it was uncomfortably warm in the ship and sweating would only make her thirstier. She pulled on the shirt, more of a shift on her because of her age, and made a face at the rough texture and dull red color.

"Um . . . I'm done," she said quietly. The man turned and set a tray on the floor in front of her. On it was a small cup of water and a bowl of plain brown rice. He himself was fairly young, with a crooked nose and an ill-tempered expression that scared her. Katara busied herself with gulping down the water to avoid looking at him.

"Leave the tray by the bars when you're done," he grunted, then grabbed her clothes and set them alight.

"No!" Katara yelped, scrambling backwards. Frightened, she started to wail.

"Calm down, brat, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said sourly. Katara didn't believe him, and even if she had, she still would've been upset by the loss of her clothes. When her crying didn't stop, he amended, "I won't hurt you if you don't give me reason to. That means do as I say and _shut up._ "

Katara clamped her mouth shut, eyes wide, body still shuddering with sobs.

"Eat your rice, brat. That bucket in the corner is for doing your business. You're probably too young to bend much, but if you do, you won't get anything to drink. Understand?"

Katara nodded silently.

He grunted again, satisfied, and stomped back up from where he'd come.

It took a long time for her to gather the courage to eat the rice.

* * *

Things quickly settled into a routine. The guard, a junior soldier apparently burdened with watching her, stopped by regularly with rice and water. He emptied her bucket and brought her a thin futon to sleep on. Every so often, she was given a clean shirt so that the dirty one could be laundered. She had no shoes, as her boots had been burned, and no covers, as it was warm below deck, and they were considered an unnecessary luxury for a prisoner, besides.

She had no way to know if it was day or night, and no way to mark the passage of time. She was on the very bottom deck, below the ocean surface, so no sunlight or moonlight reached her, and she was too young to recognize the moon's effect on her bending. The lights, a dim red color, never turned off. She could only tell if it was nighttime by the different lengths of time between her meals.

The soldier rarely spoke to her, and if he did, it was either an order or a reprimand. Katara's defiance had long since deserted her, and she did her best not to displease him. The only comfort she had was the swaying of the ship in the water, and even that was greatly reduced in this strange metal boat.

Her diet had very little variation. Occasionally she would get tea instead of water, or a pickled plum with her rice, but that was it. Katara was getting very sick of rice. She spent hours fantasizing about seal jerky and sea prunes and arctic hen and five flavor soup. She felt like Sokka. The comparison made her giggle, and then cry.

It could have been weeks or even months until the boat finally stopped moving.

Katara sat stiffly on her ratty futon, her stomach growling. The soldier, whose name she still did not know, hadn't brought her food yet. It was impossible to tell, but Katara was sure that he was very late. Maybe he had forgotten — he had done so several times in the past — or simply hadn't bothered.

She could hear shouts from above, but they sounded exuberant, cheerfulness lurking in their indistinct voices.

It reminded her of when the men in her village returned from a successful hunt, bearing bounties of meat and fur and bone that kept the tribe supplied with clothes and weapons and fed for weeks at a time. There was always a big celebration when they got back, and the women, overseen by Gran-Gran, made a feast in the main lodge that the whole village was invited to.

She and her _aniingaq_ would tussle and play under the tables and listen to stories at the feet of the village elders. Sokka always got so mad when the older boys refused to let him roughhouse with them, even though he would turn around and do the exact same thing to the kids younger than him. Katara, at eight, was the only other child close to his age in the tribe, and she was content to keep her brother all to herself (not that she'd ever let on that she was).

And then, once the fires burnt low and the elders and babies dozed off, they'd all go home to their igloo, and she'd curl up beside her brother on their soft bed furs and then her father would kiss them goodnight and her mother would —

Katara realized that her homesickness and fear were threatening to overwhelm her again, and bit back her tears. Crying did nothing but make her thirsty, and it made the soldier uncomfortable and tetchy if he saw her. It was best to save it for what she assumed was the nighttime, when no one could hear her begging for her mother.

A long while later, something heavy started clanking down the stairs. Katara saw red and black and spikes and cried out. It was the monster! The monster was back, and he was going to burn her just like he had done to her _aana_ —

"Oh, shut up, brat," it grumbled, and Katara's eyes widened at the familiar words, uttered so often during her time in the cell. The soldier! The soldier had turned into the monster?! No, the monster had sounded and even looked different — she would never forget.

The soldier gripped his new head and pulled. His familiar, scowling face reappeared.

 _It's armor!_ Katara realized. She had seen her father in armor before, but his face had always been completely visible. This armor was so alien to her that she had assumed that it was some terrifying beast, like in the stories Sokka told her to scare her.

It meant that the monster was a man.

The thing that had burned her mother was a _person._

The soldier, unaware and uncaring about her epiphany, stomped into her cell with ropes in his hands. He barked orders that she obeyed without protest, standing and presenting her wrists to be tied in front of her.

"If you try to run or bend, I'll burn you. Understand?"

Katara nodded silently, still reeling from her earlier revelations, too overwhelmed to even contemplate escape. Fire had never been anything but a source of warmth and light to her before, but now it was a weapon, a _threat_ , and she would never regard it the same way again.

And then, for the first time since she arrived, she stepped out of her cell. The soldier tugged her along by the rope like livestock, uncaring of her shorter legs. The metal stairs bit into her tender feet. It was madness to go anywhere without socks and boots in the Southern Water Tribe, even indoors. A person would get frostbitten within hours. She had never gone anywhere barefoot in her life. Even sleeping was better done with socks.

Katara was pulled through dim hallways swarming with other monsters, other _soldiers_ , who didn't bother to look at her as she stumbled past. They went up three more flights of iron stairs before arriving at the top deck.

The first thing she noticed was the sun. It stabbed at her eyes like the glare of snow in summer. The second was the heat. It was pervasive and all-encompassing, like nothing she had ever felt before. The third was the smell. The familiar scent of brine and sea salt was there, but she also smelled a plethora of unfamiliar organic scents, like the fruit Bato had once brought them after a trading expedition, but warm and _everywhere._

The fourth was the monster.

He stood at the sharp, cruel prow of his ship, surveying his ranks of soldiers like a sharkwhale might a school of fish. His eyes swept over her for a moment, and Katara felt something inside her _burn_ even as she froze, fear a rock in her stomach and rage a fire in her throat.

He addressed his troops, but Katara wasn't listening to anything but her own gasping breaths and pounding heart.

* * *

Katara was struggling to keep upright. She had been marching in the middle of a formation of raiders for what felt like hours, and they showed no signs of stopping. She was young, she was thirsty, she was hungry, she had been wasting away in a brig for La knows how long, and she was _exhausted._ Her feet were bleeding from the many sharp rocks she had trod on, and were caked with dirt. She had already fallen twice, and been pulled sharply to her feet with the rope both times.

"Tsubasa is within sight," a female soldier called, and the soldiers doubled their pace. Katara tripped, but managed to stay upright, and broke into a painful run. She told herself that it was just the raised dust that made her eyes sting.

They eventually came to a halt outside of the tall metal gates and wooden walls that blocked the entrance to the city. It was completely different from the snow and ice that protected her village, but Katara was too tired to stare.

The soldiers organized themselves into parade formation, and the soldier holding her rope eagerly tugged her to the front, with the other spoils of war. There weren't many; the Southern Water Tribe, once as impressive as its sister in the north, had been devastated by a hundred years of raids and war. Katara was the crown jewel of their loot, and she wasn't very impressive.

She tensed as the monster strode to the front, and the gates swung open.

The city was just as strange to Katara as the armor, but what really shocked her were the people. They lined the streets and thronged along the storefronts, gathering to welcome the Southern Raiders home. She felt their curious stares and shrank into herself, walking as far away from the monster as the rope would let her.

She caught the amber eyes of a girl her age sitting on her father's shoulders. The contempt there surprised her; it was like she was looking at an animal. For the first time in a while, Katara thought of how she must look. She hadn't bathed since she had been taken, she was wearing only a rough red shirt, and she was covered in dirt from the road. Her braid had long since morphed into a mass of knots and tangles. In contrast, the little girl was clean and pretty, her dark hair twisted into a bun and her clothes neat.

Shame rose up like bile in Katara's throat, and her blue gaze dropped to her toes.

They eventually reached what the monster referred to as the Waterbender prison. It was an imposing iron complex that reminded her sharply of the brig. She was ceremoniously handed off to the awaiting guards by the monster, who had taken her rope once they came to a halt. As they led her away, she looked desperately at the man who had taken care of her for so long. As frightening as he was, he was the only person she had seen during her time at sea, and she had latched onto him as only a lonely child could. Surely, after so long, he had become at least a little attached to her?

He didn't even look at her.

As the battalion marched away, Katara defeatedly turned and waited for the guards to take her away.

Though it may be the last time she ever saw the soldier, it was not the last she'd see the monster. She'd make sure of it.

* * *

 _Emaa: grandmother_

 _Aniingaq: older brother_

 _I'm starting to think that this AU is worth it purely because I get to learn so much about the Alutiiq! Apologies to any Alutiiq people for any inaccuracies, but your culture is so interesting and beautiful! I really admire it. For anyone else interested, another great resource is alutiiqlanguage dot org_

 _Seriously, though, it's actually so cool to imagine the Water Tribes as based on the Alutiiq. They even have northern and southern dialects! Needless to say, I'm using the southern dialect, though we may see northern words as the story progresses. ;)_

 _Tsubasa is a city I made up, because it didn't make sense for any dangerous and unbroken foreign benders to be held in the capital or a vacation site like the islands._


	3. The Capital

_This fic is eating my brain. I've been writing for 4 hours. OC alert for this chapter._

* * *

The prison was both better and worse than the brig. Her cell was bigger, but it was far above the ground, and she had no bed. She could see the sun and the moon, but had little protection from the cold or the heat. She got clothes that were closer to fitting, with underthings and actual pants, but the food was as dry and tasteless as the air, and she was always chained before they allowed her to drink, even though she was so young and completely untrained. She was kept relatively clean, too, but they did so by chaining her up fully clothed and blasting her with a hose for several five second increments.

The guards interacted with her even less than the soldier had. They called her only "the prisoner," and spoke about her as if she wasn't there, and never responded to anything she said. Katara stopped talking altogether, feeling even more like livestock than she had being marched through the city for people to ogle.

Even though it was called the Waterbending prison, she saw no others. The raiders had never bothered to take non-benders, only killing any that posed too much of a threat to neutralize quickly. (She and Sokka used to listen in on her father's war councils from outside the main lodge. It had never seemed very real before, even though she saw men with burns and men who never came back at all each time the warships returned.

It felt real now.)

Seasons passed, and the bored guards became less careful with their words around her. They spoke often about something called the "freedom duels," and speculated about whomever they favored to become the "champion." Their current favorite was a Firebender named Chit Sang, although they occasionally speculated, much less respectfully, about an Earthbender called Tyro. And very rarely, when the moon was high in the sky and Katara feigned sleep, they whispered fearfully of a former Waterbending duelist they only ever called "the Puppetmaster."

With only these talks to distract herself from her misery and futile rage, Katara latched on to them obsessively. She missed her family, her home, and, most of all, _water._ She had lived her entire life within five minutes of the ocean, surrounded by ice and snow. The desperate, instinctive _need_ regularly overwhelmed her. Information about another Waterbender was the only respite she was granted. She knew nothing of her family, and might not ever see them again. In lieu of blood, the Puppetmaster became her only kin in this unforgiving foreign land.

The Puppetmaster was the most powerful contender the freedom duels had ever seen. She had won her title from the previous champion within months, a feat never accomplished before or since. Even though the prize was supervised liberty within the capital walls, the Puppetmaster was too dangerous to allow to roam from the prison complex below the arena, although the guards never mentioned why. She was kept wrapped in chains in the days before, during, and after the full moon, and no one was allowed near her but the most powerful Firebenders during that time. She would be kept there, cloaked in infamy and fear, occasionally brought out for duels against any challengers, until she died.

It took her a year and a half to learn that much.

Katara had realized long ago that she was intended to become a combatant in the freedom duels, as well. Most captured benders and notorious criminals were, and Katara was the first Waterbender to be captured in decades. The last Southern bender had been taken when her father was an infant, and the Northern Water Tribe had long since sealed itself up behind impenetrable walls of ice. Apparently Waterbenders were widely feared in the Fire Nation, likely due to the Puppetmaster's influence. Her age was the only reason that the monster hadn't tried to kill her on sight, as he had attempted with her mother.

He hadn't succeeded. He couldn't have. Somehow, the glowing blue water had healed her, and though she may be horrifically scarred, her _aana_ was still alive. She had to be.

It was midsummer when they unlocked her cage for the first time in roughly two years. Katara, now ten years old, was momentarily terrified for reasons she couldn't name. She had recently noticed some of the men giving her odd looks when she changed clothes, and it made her breath quicken with panic each time. She was at their mercy — they could do anything they wanted to her without repercussions.

Thankfully, they just chained her wrists behind her and led her from the cage that had been her home for so long. Katara had exercised as best she could, whenever her frustration became too great, but one could only do so much in a cell, and her gait was stiff and unsure.

Two guards led her to the thick iron doors of the entrance, and her breath caught. Were they taking her outside?! The doors opened, and even though the prison had windows, the sudden influx of light still made her squint.

When Katara's vision cleared, the first thing she noticed was the wagon. It was large, covered with red cloth, and hooked to two imposing dragon moose. It was flanked by a group of soldiers bearing the royal insignia. Her time in the Waterbending prison had come to an end.

"That's the Waterbender?" one soldier asked disdainfully. Katara grit her teeth and met her gaze head on. She was no longer the filthy, scared little girl that had first set foot in Tsubasa. They could not break her.

"She's not much, but she's a Waterbender. Dumb as a box of rocks, and more hard headed than an Earthbender, too," one guard said. Katara shot a glare his way that he didn't see, stung. Just because she didn't speak didn't mean she was _stupid._ She was plenty smart, although Sokka always had been the clever one. It's not like there was much she could learn in prison, anyway!

She ignored the familiar ache in her chest at the thought of her _aniingaq._

Katara's defiance had not gone unnoticed by the royal soldier, who now looked almost amused. "I think the Puppetmaster'll like this one."

The guards and even the other soldiers fell silent at that, shifting uneasily. She snorted in disgust, and snatched Katara's chains. The Waterbender felt a grudging respect at her no-nonsense attitude that she quickly quashed.

 _She's a Firebender,_ Katara reminded herself. _She thinks of you as an animal, so that's how you need to think of her_.

The soldier handed her off to one of her hulking subordinates, who shoved her none too gently up into the wagon. She thrust out her hands to catch herself and scraped them against rough wooden boards. _Better my hands than my face._

When she looked up, she found several sets of green eyes staring curiously at her. There were seven in all, ranging from around her age to older than her father. _Some of them were probably caught pretty recently,_ she thought, noting that the older Earthbenders seemed to have more fight in them than the kids. _They probably keep us away from the duels till we're big enough to fight properly._

"A Waterbender," a teenage girl said in surprise. "I thought the North was supposed to be impenetrable."

"It is," an older man said. "Otherwise it would look like the South." Katara gave him an ugly look at the slight to her barely-remembered tribe.

"Well, they can't stay in there all the time. How would they eat?" a young girl around her own age reasoned.

"Shut up or you're all getting dragged behind the wagon the whole way to the capital!" a soldier snapped, and they were quiet for the rest of the ride.

They eventually stopped so that the soldiers could eat and rest, and each of the prisoners were given a hard, tasteless biscuit. The Earthbenders were separated from her and led down to a brownish stream to drink. Katara was dragged toward the thickest nearby oak and chained tightly to it while another soldier brought her a tiny cup of brackish water.

"Don't get any ideas, Waterbending bitch," he sneered. Katara gulped down half of it and spat the rest, now bitingly cold, into his face.

The Earthbenders and even a few of the soldiers broke into laughter. The other prisoners stopped when he backhanded her across the face and kneed her in the stomach so hard she threw up. A smaller number of the soldiers just laughed harder.

"A fighter, huh," the female soldier from before chuckled. "Maybe she'll stand half a chance in the ring. Still," and here she grabbed Katara's bruised jaw, "save it for the other prisoners, little miss. Don't give her any food or water for the rest of the journey."

By the next day, Katara could barely move. Her jaw throbbed, her gut ached, and she was too dehydrated to even cry.

The Earthbenders clambered back in from their latest water break, avoiding looking at her prone form. But the girl her own age, who had spoken the day before, crawled forward and tapped her lips. Confused, Katara parted them, and then the girl leaned down and kissed her. Shocked, she almost jerked back, but then she felt the wetness on her tongue and swallowed greedily. The girl had brought her water in her mouth.

"Chen," a boy hissed, appalled, "What are you doing?"

The girl, Chen, pulled back and gave Katara a sheepish smile. Katara seized her in a grateful hug, her throat still too dry and unused to speaking for her to thank her properly. The girl tensed, surprised, then gently embraced her.

They sat pressed together for the rest of the journey. Katara, who had gone without human contact for years, soaked it in. Touch was casual and encouraged in her tribe, to help with both emotional bonds and the conservation of warmth. Chen seemed less used to it, but shyly pleased nevertheless. She brought her water several more times, and seemed apologetic whenever Katara's stomach growled, but she couldn't bring both and Katara preferred the water, anyway. Each time she did, Katara hugged her tightly.

The boy who had called out the first time they kissed seemed uncomfortable and disgusted by it, but he and Chen did not seem particularly close, so Katara decided she didn't care. None of the others seemed to. There was nothing wrong with kissing another girl, and they were only doing it out of necessity, anyway. Besides, she was forever indebted to Chen, and she already considered the girl her dearest friend, even though they had never actually spoken to each other.

Within another day, they reached the capital. The soldiers, who were disgruntled by being saddled with escort duty and their slow pace, brightened considerably. The prisoners were less enthused, but even they were awed at the sight of the city in the dormant volcano. Katara morbidly hoped that it would erupt, and take most of her problems with it.

People had gathered at the gates to see the newest duelists. She could hear some of them already starting to make bets. Chen shrank back, and Katara squeezed her hand, even as she observed the city with reluctant fascination. The people of the Fire Nation were pale, their hair dark and long. They looked more aristocratic than the ones she had seen in Tsubasa, their clothes finer, though more . . . revealing. The scent of smoke and spice drifted in the air.

The wagon stopped in front of a looming colosseum, and the newcomers were herded from the wagon and underground, into yet another prison complex, completely made of metal to discourage any unauthorized Earthbending. Chen never let go of her hand. They were about to be divvied up into different cell blocks when another royal guard, whip in hand, sprinted into their midst.

"Where's the Waterbender?!" he panted. "The Puppetmaster wants to see her."

Katara was led through a series of winding, labyrinthine hallways lined with cell doors. It was surprising and impressive that the Fire Nation had managed this without Earthbending — or, more likely, Katara realized, with slaves.

The guard stopped in front of a heavily reinforced door that was flanked by four more beefy guards. They undid the many heavy-duty locks and fearfully shoved her inside, slamming it shut behind her.

The interior was shockingly luxurious. Katara had never seen anything like it, and had never expected to in a prison cell, of all places. A thick carpet covered the metal grated floor, and embroidered hangings lined the walls. Several scented candles were situated around the room, filling it with a soft light and a thick, sweet smell she couldn't place. There was a fully furnished bed in one corner, and a desk and stool in the other. A figure with long gray hair and clothes as fine as those of the civilians she had seen sat there, her wrinkled face blank and solemn.

Katara's heart skipped a beat, eyes lighting up. Could this frail old woman possibly be . . . ?

"I won't hurt you, little Waterbender. What's your name? Which tribe are you from?"

"Ka — " she choked, and cleared her throat. Her next words didn't sound pretty, but they were understandable. "Katara. Of the Southern Water Tribe."

The Puppetmaster's teeth glinted between withered lips. "Hello, Katara. My name is Hama."

* * *

 _Note about the Waterbending prison: I know it had grates in the ceiling in the show, but that's just dumb. I mean, if it rains, the guards are all fucked. Always bothered me as a kid. There's also some talk about racism, but it's a common enough tactic used in imperialist movements and the Fire Nation is definitely imperialist. Plus A:tLA is a kid's show, so they couldn't really show that, but I think it was implied. Genocide usually involves prejudice, kids._

 _Also, lotsa gay in this chapter. I am all about the gay. Don't worry, tho, they're just kids, and Chen is an OC, so she won't play a very big part. I just feel like Katara would latch onto anyone, at this point, and she really needs a friend, poor thing. Also I need a person I can use to inflict suffering upon her, hehehe. I mean, her family's out of the picture (for now), so_ someone's _gotta fill that role._

 _Anyway, I promise the endgame is Zutara, but Katara's a pimp, so there will be ship tease with lots of people, not all of whom are dudes. I'd say sorry if that's a deal breaker but I honestly don't care._

 _There's like so much telling and not enough showing in this chapter whoops. That's kind of a problem of mine._


	4. First Blood

_Yeah, fair warning: this chapter really earns the M rating. And not in the sexy way (because she's ten, people). So, yeah, major gore. Skip the last half of this chapter if that's an issue._

 _To continue the topic of the M rating, this story probably won't have sex in it. I'm as virginal as they come, and I'm incapable of writing erotica, let alone_ tasteful _erotica. So if there's sex, it will only be implied._

 _Anyway, on to the adventures of Katara and friends! And by adventures, I mean all the horrible shit that's gonna go down from this chapter onward. Enjoy!_

* * *

Katara quickly decided that, of all the places she had been imprisoned, she liked the compound best.

The food was the best she had been given in years, hearty and nutritious. Having spent so long with only rice and dry, tasteless biscuits, Katara ate herself sick.

She was not allowed to take her meal with the others, and normally would have been made to in an empty cell. Instead, upon Hama's request, she ate with her. They were not trusted around the drinks of other prisoners. Katara, thrilled to meet another Southern Waterbender, was actually grateful for the privacy.

Hama sat at her desk, and she took her place on the rug, at the feet of her village elder, as all Water Tribe children were expected to when requesting guidance or wisdom. An adult's place was to stand respectfully, but she would not have to worry about that until she turned sixteen.

Hama interrogated her about the state of the tribe, and Katara answered every question she could, unspeakably grateful for the chance to reminisce without grief. In turn, she begged Hama to teach her about Waterbending, and the Puppetmaster agreed just as eagerly.

"Have you had any training, child?" Hama asked.

"No," Katara admitted, looking down at her clasped hands, "There was no one left, and I was taken when I was eight."

"Did our sister tribe not offer to teach you?"

"They don't leave the north," she said, confused.

Hama's face turned bitter and melancholy. "Typical."

Katara said nothing, though the resignation in Hama's tone made her wonder, for the first time, if there was something strange about their sister tribe's willful isolation.

"Well, no matter. This leads to the first lesson that I will teach you, Katara: a bender must rely upon themselves before any other. To expect anyone else to protect you, even your own people, is suicide."

* * *

When curfew arrived, Katara followed the guard to the main hall without protest. Hama had told her a lot, and her mind was whirling with uncertainty.

The hall was where the vast majority of prisoners slept. The more dangerous ones, like Hama, were isolated from the rest, although to Katara that seemed more like a perk than anything else.

The newcomers were sleeping side by side, with a noticeable distance between them and the other inmates, and Katara headed towards them, eager to talk to Chen. She was curious to see that, with the exception of her group, the other prisoners slept as far away from each other as possible.

Katara laid her threadbare bedroll beside her friend, who offered her a smile that was difficult to discern in the dark. Guards were patrolling the room, so she said nothing, but she made sure to squeeze Chen's hand before drifting off into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

"GET UP, YOU BASTARDS," a guard roared, startling Katara awake. She rolled off her bedding, onto the chilly metal floor, and jumped to her feet before she fully registered what was going on. Beside her, Chen was sitting up stiffly, blinking wide, dazed green eyes. All around them, prisoners were rolling up their bedding and lining up in the hallway. The newcomers looked around uncertainly and then copied them.

Katara was heading towards the line with Chen when a rough hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around.

"Oh, no you don't, Waterbender," the guard growled. One of her eyes was missing, a wide horizontal scar bisecting the socket. "You're coming with me."

Katara shot her friend a trepidatious look before she was yanked away down another hallway. The guard eventually shoved her into an unoccupied cell and slammed the door. Katara would have wondered if she had done something wrong, but the object in the center of the room had taken her full attention.

 _Water!_ A tub of glorious, glorious water awaited her, and Katara darted forward with a cry of glee. She had not bent in years, but when she reached out with her chi and _pulled,_ it felt as natural as breathing. Water whirled clumsily around her, splashing the walls and the floor, separating into globes and then soaking back into one large stream. In the middle of the chaos, Katara danced, and smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.

She soon realized that she was meant to bathe, not play, when she noticed a bar of soap lying nearby. It thrilled her almost as much as the water had. She had not had access to soap her entire time in the Waterbending prison.

Katara stripped and lathered herself up, swirling the water around her body and hair to wash the suds away. Her lack of control meant that more of it ended up on the floor than on her, and she soon had to drop it back into the tub to avoid losing all of it and rinsed herself the normal way.

The scarred guard banged on the door. "Time's almost up! If you're not ready in three minutes I'll drag you into the arena naked myself!"

Katara's good mood came to an abrupt and messy end. She didn't doubt that the guard would make good on her threat. Hama had let her know exactly how vicious their captors could be, and Katara had her own years of experience that added credence to their claims.

She dressed in the new prison uniform they had provided, kicking her old one aside without regrets. The clothes worn by duelists were much more comfortable, and she even got boots! They were made of leather, and not the soft hide used in the water tribe, but they were durable and fit her fairly well. She didn't get socks, but her feet were so calloused from years spent barefoot that it hardly mattered.

Katara had been about to tie her hair into its customary braid when the guard barged in and yanked her unceremoniously out the door. She resigned herself to a day spent with her hair in her face, and resolved to get ready quicker next time.

She was hustled through the halls, tripping a couple times, although a good meal and a good night's sleep on real bedding had done wonders for her strength. She was shoved into Hama's cell, along with a hearty breakfast and two cups of steaming tea.

"So they mean to make you fight today," Hama muttered, brow creased and eyes dark. Katara blinked, surprised. "They always have the newcomers fight soon after they arrive, and you are a Waterbender. It's no wonder they're rushing it. The vultures have been anticipating it for weeks."

She recalled the excited people on the streets, eager to get a look at them and take bets. "But I don't know how to fight. Not really," she said anxiously. What if she lost? Would she be punished?

"They won't pit you against other benders. Not so early on. You'll be fighting criminals."

Katara gulped. That was worse! The benders were just regular people who had been taken from their homes, but the criminals were likely violent and dangerous. And they were Fire Nation, on top of all that.

Hama saw her apprehension, and smiled. "It is unwise to underestimate an opponent, but it is also unwise to let fear shackle you. Eat your porridge, but leave the tea. I will teach you some basic defense."

She forgot all about her fear. She was going to learn from a Waterbending master! Katara wolfed down her food, while Hama ate at a more sedate pace. She drew patterns in the air with the steam from their drinks, drawing delighted noises from her young cellmate.

Once her bowl was clean, Hama stood, a strangely fluid movement for such an old woman. Katara scrambled to copy her, unable to quash her eager grin.

"A bender's body is their finest weapon, and their element is an extension of that. Water is, first and foremost, a tool to protect yourself. Do not hesitate to keep yourself from harm, by any means necessary.

"Your objective in the upcoming duel is to keep yourself safe. Strike only when necessary. Use your opponent's movements against them. Water is the element of redirection, and that is the principle upon which combative Waterbending is based. Now, I will send the tea to you, and you must turn my force back upon me."

Hama brought up two streams of tea from their cups, condensed them, and sent a globe of liquid flying to her. Katara reached out, but when she took it into her control and tried to send it back, it just splashed everywhere.

"Oh no!" Katara yelped, but Hama was already bringing the tea back up from where it had soaked into the rug.

"Do not _push,_ Katara. _Catch._ Catch, and send it back to me," she said, and sent it toward her again. This time, she managed to whirl the tea in an arc, and send it back in a wobbly stream.

"I did it!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, good job. Now work on making it smoother, and adding your own force instead of depending on mine. Try to hit me with it. We aren't playing catch. Your goal is to overwhelm your opponent so that they are forced to fall back."

Hama was a patient but firm teacher, drilling Katara again and again until she could do it without thinking about it. She gradually added force with each successful return, until it was flowing constantly around them both in a fragrant blur. Katara dropped the tea several times, but Hama just collected it each time and told her to try again.

Even though Katara was trying to hit her with all her might, she never got a single drop on her teacher's clothes. In contrast, Hama was going incredibly easy on her, turning each impact into a gentle splash every time she broke through Katara's defenses.

"You're a natural, little _nuusiq_ ," Hama complemented, once she had deemed Katara's redirection adequate. The nickname gave her pause, but she was proud to have earned both it and her elder's praise. "It takes most new students days to get this proficient at this exercise, and you have done it within hours."

"It's probably because of how old I am, compared to when you started," she demurred, flushing happily nevertheless.

"Do not sell your skills short. You are very bright."

"Thank you, teacher," Katara grinned, and Hama graced her with a gentle smile.

"Do you think that you can attack with such force with your water at a standstill?"

"Yes!"

"Show me."

* * *

By the time lunch arrived, Katara could jet water with bruising force, and spray shards of ice in a wide arc. Hama assured her that accuracy would come with practice. Her ice, once it met with the wall, clattered harmlessly to the ground, whereas her teacher's was thrown hard enough to shatter on impact and even left marks on the metal.

There was a tentative knock at the door, and Hama gave them permission to enter. A hulking guard with shoulders three times wider than Katara's skulked in, paling at the sight of the tea hovering between her teacher's hands, her fingers curled like claws. He set the tray on her desk deferentially, then lingered at the doorway.

"What?" Hama snapped, and he quailed.

"Um . . . w-we will be taking the girl after she eats, in preparation for the match."

"You will do no such thing." The Puppetmaster's voice was colder than her homeland. "She will be staying with me until she is to be sent out into the arena."

"I-I will inform the head guard o-of your wishes," he stuttered, and fled.

"Disgusting," she muttered, and then turned to Katara with a smile. "Eat up, dear. You need to rest, so that you will be at your peak when you are in the arena."

"Thanks," Katara said cautiously. "I mean, I'll probably lose, anyway, so — "

" _You will not lose,_ " Hama hissed, leaning down and gripping her shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. "You are the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, and my pupil. You will do _whatever you must_ in order to win. You must _not_ lose. Do you understand?!" She shook her a little.

"Yes," Katara squeaked. She suddenly understood why this woman was so feared. "I won't lose."

"You won't," Hama said firmly, and they ate lunch in silence.

* * *

The time came for her to be taken to the arena, and, despite the twisting feeling in her gut, Katara was almost relieved. Although Hama had soon reverted to an amiable village elder, she still felt uneasy, and their conversation had been little more than a lecture on the spiritual side of bending while Katara nodded along mutely, worried that she might anger her again if she said anything wrong.

Once the cell door was shut and locked behind them, the male guard from before seemed a lot more intimidating. He seemed almost embarrassed that she had witnessed his fright, and made sure to treat her roughly as he manhandled her to join the seven other benders who had arrived to the capital with her. They stood in a tight cluster behind a pair of huge iron doors. The scarred woman from before, who was watching the other benders, sent her a nasty grin.

"What exactly are we supposed to do?" the boy who had gotten angry at her and Chen whispered.

"It's probably like a bending match back home," the middle aged man who had insulted her tribe said. "Just gotta knock the other guy out of the ring."

Beside her, Chen was trembling. Katara put a comforting hand on her shoulder and murmured, "We'll be fine, Chen. I'll keep you safe."

Chen stared at her for a moment, and she realized that it was the first time that she had spoken in front of her. Then her hand crept up to cover Katara's own, and she offered her a watery smile.

"Listen up, maggots," the huge male guard roared, silencing them, and then directed their attention to the scarred guard standing by the door.

"This will be a team duel. Your opponents are non-benders, so they've been provided with weapons." There was a ripple of unease among them. Chen stepped closer to Katara's side. "The match ends when one team wins."

"How . . . how do we win?" the teenage girl asked cautiously.

The guard grinned. It was an ugly thing, twisted and malicious, gaping like her missing eye. "You kill your opponents," she said simply, and the doors began to open.

The arena was vast, a long oval three times the size of a Fire Nation ship, the ground covered in sand. A huge dome of gridded steel loomed overhead, presumably to protect the audience if a duelist got any ideas. The stands were even larger than the dome, holding hundreds of spectators, though Katara had no doubt that they could seat well over a thousand. A red box, marked with the crest of the royal family, sat at the center of one side of the oval. It was empty.

On their end was a pile of boulders and a huge metal trough of water. Katara felt a spark of excitement, despite herself. It was quickly quelled when she spotted the rack of weapons on the other side, and the rough, vicious-looking people approaching it. Due to their milling around and her sudden, sickening fear, it was hard to count how many, but she guessed eight; one enemy for each bender. If they were non-benders, that meant they were in here for actual serious crimes, and likely wouldn't show any hesitation to hurt them.

There was a roar that started up as soon as they stepped out, followed by a spurt of booing and cruel laughter when the benders clumped together, dazed and disbelieving.

A solid young man from their side stepped forward and assumed a bending stance, yelling, "Snap out of it! They're coming!"

And they were coming. As soon as they selected their weapons, the criminals started to stalk forward with bloodthirsty grins. They obviously didn't see them as much of a threat. Even as she raced toward the water, heart in her throat, Katara noticed that they weren't in any sort of formation. She had assumed that warriors always worked in a cohesive unit, as they had in every fight she'd ever witnessed, both in the tribe and the Fire Nation, but apparently that wasn't the case.

As the other benders fanned out, she noticed Chen and the boy hanging back, hiding behind the pile of boulders. They both looked terrified. Katara was tempted to join them, but she had seen violence before, had seen how horribly it could end, and she knew exactly what would happen if she didn't fight back. So she ignored her trembling hands, her pounding heart, and the tears in her eyes.

She was the last Southern Waterbender. She would protect them.

Katara pulled as much water as she could around her, feeling marginally safer in its cool embrace. Their opponents paused; another roar of excitement went up from the crowd at the sight of the rumored Waterbender. The young man took the opportunity to send a boulder flying into the other team's midst while all were focused on her, and then they all exploded into action.

A man with two long knives charged at her. Almost sobbing with fear, she sent a jet of water that knocked him off his feet, then encased his torso and limbs in ice. The spectators shouted indistinctly for blood, but Katara stumbled back, relief making her knees go weak.

All around her, the Earthbenders were joining the fight, pushing their opponents back. They pulled their punches when it counted, but Katara began to believe that there was a chance they would survive this.

And then the first bender died.

It was the middle aged man. He died with a gurgling shriek, his neck messily slashed by a woman with a katana. The benders stopped, shocked, and the non-benders surged forward, cutting down two more of her teammates and pushing them all back.

Another bender turned tail and ran, joining Chen behind the rocks. The only ones left to fight were Katara and the young man, versus six criminals. (Katara had frozen one, and the teenage girl, now bleeding into the sand, had crushed the legs of another.) The young man sent her a desperate look and launched himself into the fray.

Katara ran to follow, determined to help even as she sobbed. She pulled up more water into a massive wall to shield them both. The only other bender sent her a grateful glance and proceeded to shove and kick boulders through her makeshift shield, forcing her to work constantly to reform it. One rock met its mark with a sickening _crunch_ , crushing a non-bender into a mess of blood and broken bone, and Katara dropped their barrier when she used her water to smack another into the arena wall. He slid down into the sand and didn't get up again.

A scream of pain came from behind them, and she realized with a feeling like being punched in the stomach that a few of the criminals had decided to go after the easy prey, still hiding behind the rocks. In her panic, she turned and ran, leaving the young man to confront two non-benders on his own so that she could go after the other pair.

One of the three benders that had run instead of fighting, a middle aged woman, was already dead. The boy her own age was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side that would likely prove fatal. Chen was cowering against the doors, fingers bloody from scratching futilely at the metal. A woman loomed above her, raising her odachi to deliver a killing blow.

With a furious screech, she launched a humongous wave, knocking her backwards and freezing her feet together. Chen turned towards her, mouth opening to shout a warning —

Something thudded into her and tore her shoulder open, sending her flying. The pain was unreal, and she was vaguely aware of the man who'd attacked her swinging back a studded club to hit her again — and then a rock flew through the air and smacked into his skull, throwing him to the ground and likely concussing him.

" _Chen,_ " Katara gasped. Her friend had saved her life.

Chen smiled tremulously, tears pouring down her cheeks, and bent to help her up. But then the man with the club lurched to his feet and charged them once again. Katara _knew_ that the next blow would be for Chen, who was completely defenseless while supporting her. Her mind went blank and, without consciously considering what she was doing, she _moved._

Before she knew it, she was forcing her hand into his stomach and up into his ribcage, her fingers sheathed in razor sharp blades of ice. Katara's arm was suddenly encased in soft, squishy flesh. She could feel his pumping heart against her palm. Something warm and foul-smelling spurted onto her face, catching Chen, who was still pressed to her side, as well. The man gurgled and dropped his club, losing the strength in his legs. Katara was pulled down with him, her arm plunged almost shoulder-deep in his body, his muscles tensed around the intrusion like a vise. Frightened and disgusted, she yanked her hand out with a moist squelch. Her frozen claws caught in his intestine on the way out, partially disemboweling him in the process.

Chen dropped to her knees and vomited, and she was quick to follow, only barely missing the corpse. Blinking blood and tears from her eyes, she looked up and saw the utter carnage they had wrought.

Blood was splattered everywhere, over sand, walls, rocks, ice, and even the dome. People lay dead and dying all around her. Someone had crushed the head of the man she had frozen. The young bender she had fought beside was going around and slitting throats with a salvaged knife, ensuring that all of the opposing duelists were dead or well on their way there. The rest of her team already was.

The stench was horrendous. She realized that the dome and the height of the stands were probably meant to protect the audience from that, too. They got all of the glamour of violence, with none of the mess. The sounds of shouting filtered through the pounding of her pulse in her ears, and she realized that they were cheering.

In the remnants of her first duel, Katara clung to Chen and wept.

* * *

 _Nuusiq: knife_

 _So, yeah. That happened. To a ten-year-old._

 _oh god I'm an awful person_

 _It's a little unrealistic, but people are capable of a lot in a life-or-death situation. Besides, Katara's already gone through over two years of hell at this point, so she's got a lot of fortitude already. And it's already been established in the show that she's basically a prodigy, able to become a master within months, and that wasn't even in a situation where she was constantly fighting for her life. I hope that excuses her quickly learned bending prowess, even if it is more raw power than anything else._

 **Edited July 22, 2018. Mostly just to make the gore a little more true-to-life, because I'm gross like that, but also to more accurately foreshadow some of the things I hope to explore later on in the fic.**


	5. Encounter

**Chapter 5**

 _Sorry this took so long. I got a little discouraged by the lack of interest. A fair amount of people are reading, but they aren't leaving any feedback, so I feel like only a few people like this story._

* * *

Katara and the two other victors were taken from the battlefield before many of the spectators even rose from their seats. All three were too overwhelmed to even try to fight the guards. Katara couldn't stop crying, each sob torn out of her through clenched teeth. She could taste blood and she didn't know if it belonged to her or someone she had killed.

In contrast, neither Chen nor the young man were making a sound. The man was sullen and hateful, jaw clenched, whereas Chen was like a doll, or a corpse. Her friend's hand was lax in her own, her face blank even as it dripped tears. Chen had long since retreated somewhere that Katara couldn't reach, and she had to swallow down an absurd sense of abandonment.

They were soon ushered into some sort of infirmary, where both the patients and the staff looked on pitilessly. Katara did not respond when they said that they would kill her if she tried anything when they cleaned her wounds, but screamed and struggled when they tried to take Chen back to the main hall, as her only wounds were on her fingers. She quieted when one guard's fist burst into flame, but Chen had already gone, docilely following another guard like a beaten dog.

The medic that bandaged her shoulder, annoyed with the fuss she had made, was less than gentle. The young Earthbender she had fought beside, being treated close by, did his best to distract her.

"Thank you," he said.

". . . What for?" Katara asked, hissing in pain when rough hands swabbed at some grit in one of the gashes. Her arm had been thickly coated with tacky, drying blood, and she wondered if any of it had gotten in the wound. Her father purposefully mingled blood with his warriors; perhaps the first man she had ever killed was her first ever blood brother.

"For having my back out there. You didn't run, even when you could've."

"I couldn't. They were gonna kill us."

"Plenty of other people did. If I was as young as you, I probably would've."

She glanced up from her filthy boots, caked with sand and blood. His eyes were green and gentle.

"Thank you, too. For helpin' me."

His grin was strained, but seemed almost genuine. "What's your name? I'm Bao."

"Katara."

It was strange, Katara reflected, to speak to someone other than Hama, but nice. They didn't talk after exchanging names, but she liked Bao. It would be nice to make friends with him, too.

After her shoulder was wrapped and they were left to recuperate on their cots, the hulking guard from before came in and marched over to her. "Up," he ordered, curt but without the cruelty from before.

"She needs to stay here till the wound closes," a medic said sharply.

"If you want to explain that to the Puppetmaster, be my guest," the guard said, and the medic fell tellingly silent. Katara rose gingerly to her feet, nodded at Bao, and left the infirmary. She could feel the eyes of the other wounded, the other victors, on her back, interest sharpening at her mentor's title.

Katara didn't care. Thankful for this new distraction, her chest began to _burn._

When she had been successfully delivered, she stood silently until the heavy door had closed and locked behind her, before she clenched her fists and met Hama's gaze with eyes as icy as the poles.

" _Why didn't you tell me?!_ "

Hama watched her coolly, and said, "If you had known, you would have panicked. If you had panicked, you would have died."

"You still should have told me!" Katara shrieked, fresh, angry tears spilling down her cheeks, more taking their place when she brushed them away. "How could you do that?! How could you send me out there without letting me know what was coming?!"

"Do you want to know my answer or do you want to keep pushing your luck?" Hama asked, voice measured but sharp. Katara, despite everything, still felt a stab of fear. This was a woman who had won countless duels like the one she had just gone through, was a woman too dangerous to let loose even in a city packed with imperial Firebenders, and she sounded like it. Her jaw clicked shut.

"I had to keep you unaware, because a child as young as you would have fallen apart. I don't care what you think you would've done, but what I knew you would do; I've been a champion longer than you've been alive. Now sit, girl, and let me heal you."

Hama sat patiently through the ordeal that was removing her fresh shirt. The medic had simply cut the soaked, punctured one open. Katara already hurt badly, and she couldn't move her arm without an excruciating stab of pain. However, perhaps out of respect for her student's ire, Hama made no move to assist. She was at once resentful of and grateful for it.

"I wouldn't need anything to heal you with if it was the full moon. You wouldn't even scar," Hama muttered, half to herself.

"...How can you heal without water?" Katara asked.

Her elder remained silent.

As Hama held the glowing tea, left over from lunch, over her still-bandaged wound, Katara had to force herself not to move. The regrowing of skin and muscle at an accelerated pace _itched,_ but she was at once too desperate to be rid of the pain and too wary of Hama to complain.

About five minutes in, Hama spoke. "Normally, one wouldn't be able to do this without direct contact with the flesh itself, but I am exceptionally experienced with concealing healed wounds. You must never do this outside of this room. Not to your friends, not to your teammates, and not even to yourself."

"Why not?" Katara asked.

"If the Fire Nation knew, we would be used. The only reason that the spirits-damned North is so strong where we are not are their walls and their healers. Only one is not enough. If these pigs learned of this skill, the world would fall," Hama said grimly. Katara felt her ire towards the Puppetmaster fade, a mixture of fear and old, bone deep hatred taking its place. "I don't care what happens to you. Even if you will die without it, _do not let them know about our healing._ "

The young Waterbender sat in silence for the rest of the session, mulling over what her teacher had told her. This went beyond two women forced to fight for their lives; the fate of the very world was at stake. In the face of that, if she showed the Fire Nation her healing, she was worse than worthless; she was _scum_. In the grand scheme of things, her life was nothing.

Once Hama's gnarled hands pulled away, Katara slowly struggled to her feet, suddenly twice as exhausted as she'd been after the duel.

"Careful," the old woman cautioned. "Being healed so quickly takes a lot of your energy."

Katara turned to face her and bowed low. Not as a child, or even an adult, to her elder, or a student to her teacher, but as a servant to her master, a priest to her god. "Please," she begged, "teach me everything that you know. Please."

"Very well," said the Puppetmaster. "Very well."

* * *

Thankfully, the guards were not in the habit of keeping track of their prisoners' wounds, and their protocols about benders and water meant that no one else ever got close enough to look. So she kept her new scar hidden, making sure to move stiffly, watching Bao for an idea of how long it might take to plausibly recuperate.

Chen wouldn't speak, after the duel, though she trailed after Katara as often as Katara trailed after her. They were together every moment that she wasn't with the Puppetmaster.

She sometimes felt like a puppet, herself. She had allowed Hama to take over her life, all in the hopes of survival, but her friends were the one thing she refused to give up. Her master just snorted, and told her that, if she was lucky, she would live to regret it.

Katara, Bao, and Chen still slept clumped together, for all that they might be forced to kill each other in the future. Chen could only fall asleep when she was nestled between them. Katara was happy to shield her, but Bao only seemed to do it out of a strange sense of obligation. He had become their de facto leader that day, after all, and he had spent spirits knew how long with Chen in prison before Katara met them. Chen never spoke, so it wasn't like he was protecting her for the conversation.

However, Katara knew that Chen was brave, even if it was in a less violent, obtrusive manner than either of them. In a way, she found that more admirable. She had not been brave when she'd killed those criminals. She had been afraid. Even if they had tried to hurt her, they were victims, too. No one, not even someone from the Fire Nation, should be forced to fight to the death for another person's amusement.

In contrast to his indifference to Chen, Bao seemed to genuinely like her, or at least respect her. They often had hushed conversations about strategy and swapped tips about bending techniques. Chen, for all that she was perpetually glued to Katara's side, never seemed to hear them, her eyes distant even if her body remained close. Even so, Katara relayed wisdom that Hama had granted her, even though her master would not be pleased that she was sharing it with potential enemies. She hoped that her friend was listening, even a little; Bao certainly seemed to gain a lot from it.

The days passed like this, spending time with her friends when she wasn't being put through her paces by her teacher. Katara only knew if there was a match from the distant roar of the crowds, though they seemed to happen fairly regularly. When Hama permitted her to leave, she was ordered to come back with information about the winners. They were benders more often than not, which had contributed to a nasty split between benders and non-benders, both in the arena and the compound below.

"It's easy to disregard them because they cannot bend, and that is when they become dangerous," Hama cautioned. "A weapon, in the right hands, is just as potent as any element. In someone capable of blocking chi, it means almost certain death. Treat your non-bending foes with just as much caution as you would a Firebender."

Katara remembered the feel of metal in her flesh, of being thrown several feet by the force of a blow, and nodded. She would not forget.

Hama was as patient a teacher as ever, but implacable. She would let Katara rest once she was satisfied with her technique and not a moment before. She taught her to use sweat, steam, tears, and spilt blood. She taught her how to get hit and get up again, how to hit back when bending wasn't an option. Katara was struck by the tragedy of keeping her underground in a locked cell, for all it had forged her into what she was; she was struck by fear of what her teacher could do.

And then, after she hadn't summoned Katara for the three days surrounding the full moon, the Puppetmaster taught her how she had earned her moniker, and ordered Katara to learn to do the same.

Disgusted, afraid, and so, so enthralled, Katara swore that she would obey.

* * *

"Tyro is to face Chit Sang next, correct?" Hama demanded of their hulking guard/waiter, when he brought them dinner one evening. Katara, who lay panting against the wall, sat up at the mention of the familiar names.

"Yes," the guard confirmed meekly, fear just as apparent as it had been her first day there. Katara quelled the now-familiar pang of envy; she didn't want to be feared, but she did want the respect and security that it brought.

"When he wins, and challenges me for my title, I want Katara to watch our duel."

The guard did not dispute her prediction of the winner, for all his blatant prejudice against non-Firebenders. (All the guards favored their countrymen, for all they were prisoners — it was a fact of life in the compound.) "Champions aren't allowed teammates, Puppetmaster."

"She will not be a competitor. She will be a _spectator,_ " she ordered sharply.

The guard studied his iron-toed boots, all the better to kick unruly prisoners with. Katara took malicious pleasure in seeing him so cowed. Those boots had once cracked her rib. Hama had refused to help her heal it, seizing it as a learning opportunity.

"I-I will see what can be done."

"Good. Now get out."

* * *

The day of the Puppetmaster's match came all too slowly. It had to be postponed, once to let Tyro recuperate, and again because of another full moon. Even so, Katara, the guards, and even the other prisoners were practically vibrating with nervous, excited energy. Bao had pestered her with questions about her master, but Katara had kept quieter than Chen. Her lessons were one thing, but she would not endanger her master, for all that she hadn't seen even a tenth of her skills.

A white-haired man with a slowly fading black eye and a perpetually nervous look on his face had been trying to corner her for the past week and a half, but Katara always managed to slip away. She may be loyal, but she was no fan of pain, and she doubted that she could withstand the attentions of a desperate man.

"That's Tyro," Bao said seriously, when she had asked during the day of the full moon. Without the protection offered by Hama's cell, she had been dodging him all day. "He's really, really powerful, though I don't know if he'll stand a chance against the Puppetmaster. If he catches you, scream for help, and I'll come running."

"Thanks, Bao," Katara said earnestly.

He grinned at her, and scratched the back of his neck. "Dunno if I'll be any help, though. He could probably make mincemeat out of both of us without breaking a sweat for you to use."

"Well, it's the rock that counts," Katara quipped, and they burst into muffled, nervous giggles. Chen had just smiled faintly, even as she squeezed Katara's shoulder so hard her knuckles turned white.

But back to the present day.

She had just been taken from her mentor's room, passing a faintly greenish Tyro on the way. The one-eyed guard that had sent so many to their deaths with a smile scoffed derisively, then went back to muttering about the logistics of taking her up to watch. Katara was struck with a sudden wave of pity, but also the sincere hope that he would lose. That he would die.

 _What am I becoming?_ Katara thought, being shoved none-too-gently into a cage and shackled to the bars by her wrists, ankles, and throat. _What have I become?_

* * *

It was over an hour before the duel, and the stands were already more than half-full. Everyone had come out to see the infamous Puppetmaster at work, and bets were flying through the air already. Not on who would win, but on how long her opponent would last.

 _Poor man,_ Zuko mused, resting his chin in his palm. Azula had insisted coming to watch the match, even if their honored father could not attend with them. She had always loved the Freedom Duels — Zuko had preferred to stay behind with his mother, allowing his sister her bonding time with the Fire Lord.

But his mother had disappeared with only a cryptic goodbye in the night almost a year ago, his father had no time even for the Fire Princess outside of an official audience, and Azula, bored without her usual entourage, had insisted that he accompany her.

"Isn't this _exciting,_ Zuzu?" she chirped, grinning wide and sharp despite her facetious tone. "The first championship duel in years, and _we_ get front row seats!" She gestured expansively at the royal box they were seated within, ignoring their masked bodyguards.

Zuko didn't answer, eyes fixed on the arena below. They were royals, with a perpetually reserved box; did they _really_ need to get here this early? They weren't even finished setting up yet.

"Oh, stop pouting, I'll have a servant get you some fireflakes," Azula sniffed. It didn't matter that they hadn't actually brought anyone besides their guards; Azula thought of everyone but the Fire Lord himself as either a slave or a toy. Zuko was firmly in the latter category, but even he didn't know if that was a good thing.

"Hey, what's that?" his sister asked abruptly, pointing up towards the nosebleed section.

"It appears to be a girl in a cage, my lady."

 _That_ caught his attention.

"I can see that," Azula snapped, mood as mercurial as her tone. "What I want to know is _why._ Summon one of the staff."

A bodyguard bowed silently and made his way up to the cage, which was surrounded by three guards. He gestured at one, who nearly tripped over themselves to follow.

When the guard arrived, a nasty scar slashing across her eyelid, Azula spoke imperiously. "Woman, why is that girl in a cage?"

"She is the Puppetmaster's apprentice, Highness. She was brought out to observe the fight, at her request."

Zuko's interest was definitely piqued now, though he did his best not to show it. Azula had no such compunctions.

"Really? How interesting. Bring her to me; I wish to speak with her."

"Princess," the bodyguard who had fetched the woman said, "it may not be safe to — "

"Are you saying that you cannot protect me adequately? That you cannot _complete your duty_ to the royal family?" Azula asked, sugar sweet. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"N-no, my lady," the guard said, tripping over his words in his haste. "Forgive me."

"Then there's no problem," she announced, satisfied. "Bring her to me!"

* * *

Zuko eyed the Waterbender, fascinated but reluctant to let on either to her or Azula. The guards that had brought her were standing a respectful distance away, whispering to each other and watching them all when they thought that his sister wasn't looking.

The girl looked no older than Azula, although a lot less put together. Her hair, while clean, was pulled into a messy braid, her posture unrefined and her clothes rough and cheap. She gave short, sullen answers to any direct questions and ignored leading statements. Azula seemed amused rather than annoyed by her disrespect, though the prison guards clearly didn't share her opinion. Zuko didn't know what they expected; she was a rude, unkempt water peasant, and it's not like prison offered proper decorum classes.

Besides, the Fire Princess had that look that said that this was a toy she intended to break.

The Waterbender was surprisingly striking, though. He chalked it up to hormones. He'd had no one but his uncle and his sister and her friends for company for _weeks_ , and while Mai and Ty Lee were certainly pretty, he had grown up with them making a game out of annoying him. The kind of irritation they were capable of causing had long since overshadowed their looks.

What surprised him more was what was happening in the arena below. While they were piling boulder upon boulder at one end, the other end just had a measly tin tub of water. It could hold barely half of the trough they used to water the komodo rhinos in the palace stables.

"How can she fight with only that?" Zuko asked incredulously.

"She could kill him with less than half," came a clear, confident voice. The Water Tribe girl met his gaze head on, with a confident, mocking grin. Zuko was only barely aware of his sister's miffed look. She wasn't pleased that the girl had ignored her in favor of speaking to him.

The peasant leaned as close as her iron collar would let her, and he found himself absently wishing that her chains were a little bit longer. He couldn't look away from her penetrating blue eyes, arresting in their sudden vitality.

"You should see what she can do with a cup of tea."

* * *

 _And so Zuko finally appears! And it looks like he's already pretty interested in everyone's favorite Waterbender. ;)_

 _But don't be fooled; this fic is a slow burn. There won't be any substantial romance for a couple years, yet. Sorry to disappoint! But Katara is really pretty, not to mention "exotic" to Fire Nation people, so I couldn't resist putting that in there. They're ten and twelve, so nothing weird yet, just puberty._

 _Now I really wanna hear Zuko's voice crack for some reason._

 ** _Edited July 22, 2018 for continuity reasons._**


	6. Discovery

_Wow, you guys. The number reviews I got for the last chapter were equal to the number I got for the rest of this fic. I'm really, really happy to see that people are actually reading and enjoying this._

 _There's more gore in this chapter, so you might want to skip the fight with Hama if that bothers you. And this chapter has lots of Zuko, so I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Katara's blood was singing in excitement. Despite her pity for Tyro, she could not wait to see another Waterbender in action. And this was no ordinary Waterbender; this was her _master._ In this prison, Hama was her terrible but benevolent god, second only to Tui and La. Open worship of any gods or spirits not of the Fire Nation was stopped quickly and brutally by the more devout (or simply bloodthirsty) guards, but even they bowed to the Puppetmaster.

She met the amber eyes of the Fire Nation's princess head on, reminded of a clean, pretty, scornful little girl in Tsubasa, over two years ago.

Was she not the daughter of Hakoda, chief of the Southern Water Tribe? Her _ataa_ had won his position through his strength, and not his blood; _emaa-emaa_ hadn't even been a native Southerner, and he'd still been chosen by the elders. Her father, no matter the difference between their homelands, no matter that he wasn't a bender, was the Fire Lord's superior.

Katara could respect the Dragon of the West, a general that even the warriors of her tribe admired; she could not respect a snake in the grass like the current Fire Lord.

"Watch carefully, your highnesses. Witness what _my_ people are capable of."

The girl's smirk looked almost feral, but her eyes were bright and almost dancing with a strange sort of pleasure. Even the boy had abandoned his annoyed slouch to stare at her, most likely astonished by her sheer foolhardiness.

"Shut up, you little _bitch,_ " her one-eyed minder hissed, terrified. "You dare disrespect the princess like this?!" Through her mix of anxiety and defiance, Katara noted that everyone deferred to the younger, female sibling, rather than the heir apparent. Her attention was quickly snatched when the guard's fists ignited. "I'll punish the Water Tribe scum, your Highness, so please forgive me for allowing — "

"Did I ever _say_ you could punish her?" the girl asked silkily, suddenly much less amused. For a Firebender, her voice could be remarkably cold.

The guard's flames fizzled out of existence. "N-no, Highness, I . . . please forgive my impertinence."

"You know, I don't think I will," the princess said, tapping her chin in mock thought. "I'll have you lashed, I think. That'll teach you not to interrupt me when I'm having a conversation."

The guard's wide-eyed look might have inspired guilt, or at least pity, but she had made an example of Bao for the newest batch of Fire Nation convicts a couple of weeks ago. And she had it easier than any of them, anyway; the prison guards liked to set their whips alight. Instead, Katara just waved through her shackles as she was taken away by one of the imperial bodyguards, even though she knew she'd pay for it later.

"Well, she was right about you being impertinent," the Fire Nation princess said, calling Katara's attention back to herself. "But, unlike her, you're actually interesting."

Katara just smiled, deciding not to push her luck.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Katara, daughter of Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe," she said proudly.

The boy's eyes widened. "And they put you _here_?!"

His younger sister laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "Who knew that the last Southern Waterbender was also their princess? Poor political move, on our part, not to use you."

Katara's stomach abruptly knotted. She had always just assumed that her captors knew of her parentage, and simply didn't care. Now she wasn't so sure.

One reason that her father was such a respected chief was that he lived like any other member of the tribe; their igloo, their clothes, and even their social status in the village were identical to any other family's. It was only in battle and in meetings with his men and the elders that his position was made apparent. Most of the day to day minutiae of keeping the village running was left to the elders and the women, anyway. Katara and Sokka had been raised like the rest of their peers, because it was impractical to act any different when the elders would choose another chieftain once her father became an elder himself. (The thought that he might fall in battle simply never crossed her mind.)

How could the monster have known? She looked and acted like any other little girl in the tribe, and he hadn't known who her father was. He only spoke to Kya for a few minutes before burning her, and hadn't even bothered to look at Sokka. Why would he care about the parentage of one child, even if that child was the last Waterbender?

Thankfully, the princess had not noticed her telling silence. However, the prince had, staring at her silently with a suspicious expression. She turned away as much as she was able, unwilling to meet his molten gold gaze.

Thankfully, a roar went up from the crowd, and Katara leaned forward, worries pushed to the side for the moment. Hama had ordered her to watch the techniques she used in the arena and copy them in her own battles. She would not disrespect her master by dwelling on her missteps instead of improving herself.

Tyro was far enough below that she couldn't see him clearly, but she was sure that he was terrified, even as he sent a volley of boulders at the still figure across the arena. No one would willingly face the Puppetmaster; they all had to be forced into it. Hama had told her that challenge matches were a lot more commonplace back when she wasn't yet champion, and the benefits still outweighed the risks.

Her view of her master's face was blocked by a thick iron bar, but her body language looked completely at ease, bringing up a thick orb of water that caught the rocks inside it, carried them around her in a familiar motion (" _Redirection_ ," Katara breathed), and sent them whistling back. Tyro, helpless while the rocks were in the air, could only pull more around to shield him.

They collided into his wall with a tremendous _crack,_ spraying shards of rock and reducing a good portion of the Earthbender's stockpile to rubble. He sent smaller rock shards next, like a rain of razor-sharp hail, but these were easily caught by a questing tentacle of water, which bent with the momentum of the assault and then, when Hama threw her arms out, slingshotted their contents forward.

Katara soon realized that the arena had Tyro at a major disadvantage. Bao had told her that Earthbenders typically raised what they needed from the earth, so fighting with boulders instead of the ground itself would be a major adjustment. Tyro had had years to adapt, but it still wasn't ideal for his bending form.

Conversely, Waterbenders could fight as long as they had fluid, even if it was much easier to use the sea. Even if Hama hadn't been so powerful, she still had the upper hand.

"This is rather anticlimactic. She hasn't even attacked him yet," the girl groused, unimpressed by her master's skill.

Katara bristled. "She's gauging him," she declared. "Never expend energy in an attack when you can get an opponent to do most of it for you."

"Typical Waterbending nonsense," she dismissed, but she watched the battle more calculatingly after that. Katara supposed that, even if she thought it was inferior, she wanted to learn how to counter it. And here she was, sharing one of her master's major tenets!

She'd always been prone to emotional outbursts. She decided to quash that part of herself as best she could. It was going to get her killed. It was going to get other people killed, too, if she didn't learn to keep her mouth shut.

Oh, La, why did she tell them who her father was?!

Down below, Tyro had apparently caught on to the fact that any of his attacks could be used against him, and was attempting a different tactic. He left himself completely open for a moment by raising his entire boulder pile in the air, then sent it crashing down to the ground, causing the dust of pulverised rock to rise and drastically decrease visibility, although from their vantage point in the royal box the combatants were still easy to make out.

It was a stupid move, considering that Hama was old and her eyesight was already going. He'd only made things harder on himself, whereas Hama had had years of experience with fighting with diminished vision.

"Why didn't she attack him?!" the prince demanded. "He was wide open!"

Katara bit her tongue, but surprisingly, the princess answered for her.

"Oh, don't be an idiot, Zuzu," she sniffed, eyes riveted on the Puppetmaster. "She's playing with him."

Katara stilled. She had assumed that her master was just getting a read on her opponent's style, redirecting, not attacking. She was skilled enough to get away with it, whereas Katara had to attack whenever possible. She could barely redirect attacks to somewhere harmless, let alone cannibalize the movement and use it to augment her own. She assumed that her master was just being kind, letting him live longer until angry guards forced her hand, but . . .

She looked at her master, and caught a flash of teeth through the dust.

Was Hama _enjoying_ this?

Anyway, the princess certainly was. Even the prince, though lapsed into silence, looked enthralled by the fight.

 _They're awful,_ Katara decided. _I'd like to see_ them _fight to the death, see how much they like it then._

As soon as the dust settled, Hama struck. She froze her water into a round blade and wheeled it through the air, cleanly cutting through Tyro's thick forearm. Katara heard more than saw it thud into the sand, her vision going hazy.

The arena went wild around her, but even the deafening cheers didn't muffle Tyro's howl.

Hama didn't capitalize on Tyro's distraction. She pulled her water back to thinly coat her arms and waited for his next move.

 _She really is toying with him,_ she realized faintly. At least Hama wasn't enjoying herself anymore. Her face was blank and cold. Katara couldn't help but wonder if the Puppetmaster would still smile if her opponent had been a Firebender.

Tyro shifted into a shaky bending stance, his stump trailing drops of blood that splattered like rain into the sand. He threw another boulder, only for Hama to spryly evade like a woman half her age and slice off the rest of his forearm.

Katara exhaled a dry sob and looked away, only to meet the sickened face of the Fire Prince. Their eyes locked, her own filling with tears that soon wet her cheeks and dripped from her trembling chin. She did not want to cry in front of this boy, and from the panicked, uncomfortable look on his face he didn't want her to, either, but it was exactly that that kept her from turning away. Better that he see her than his sister, who was practically bent over the wall of their box to get a better look.

The fight continued for what felt like hours, but was likely only a few more minutes, punctuated by cheers from the audience and Tyro's steadily weakening yells and the sound of falling rocks. Katara kept her stare on the boy's face until the Earthbender at last fell silent.

Tyro lay in the middle of a pool of red, blood soaking slowly into the ground even as more gushed from either side of his torso. Lumps of flesh that had once been his arms were scattered around the arena.

Hama made no attempt to fight as a dozen prison guards surrounded her and two more wrestled her arms behind her back. She merely looked up at the royal box, where her protegee stood trembling in her cage, and contemptuously spat on the ground.

The girl laughed, delighted. "What a brazen old hag! Well, I suppose she's earned the right." She clapped her hands and spun around, eyes catching on Katara. "Oh, you're crying? What a bleeding heart. You obviously won't last long. Anyway, Zuko, what did you think of the fight?"

" . . . it was interesting. But drawing it out was just cru — unnecessary."

The Fire Princess rolled her eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Uncle. C'mon, let's go home." She spared Katara an uninterested glance. "I expect we won't be seeing you again, unless father has a use for you. Try not to die until then." She strode out of the box, half of the bodyguards shadowing her. The people in the stands bowed like grass in the wind as she passed.

The boy — Zuko — hesitated by the cage, mouth open like he wanted to say something, but decided against it and followed after his sister.

* * *

That night, Zuko found himself thinking of the Waterbending girl. She had plagued his thoughts on and off for hours. He couldn't help but pity her, but Ozai had often insulted him for being too softhearted. His continued concern for her was a sign of weakness, one that must be ruthlessly quashed if he ever hoped to become worthy of the throne.

He turned his thoughts to her lineage. It bothered him that she had been treated like any other prisoner — like a _peasant._ She was important, and could have been used as leverage against the Southern Water Tribe, which had been a thorn in the Fire Nation's side for decades.

He stopped in front of his father's study, his uncle halting once he realized that Zuko was no longer at his side. It was clear that the room was occupied, due to the guards stationed by the doors.

"Is something wrong, nephew?" Iroh asked curiously. "You still owe me a game of Pai Sho."

"I . . . I have something that I wish to ask my father."

Iroh smiled amicably. "I hope that you will permit me to accompany you. I have not had the chance to speak with my brother in quite some time."

Zuko nodded hesitantly. Ozai was more likely to grant his request for an audience if Iroh was with him, though he had made his feelings about him clear after the siege of Ba Sing Se. Even as the Fire Lord, he was bound by filial piety to show respect to his elder brother, even if he did not feel it.

"Tell my honored father that I request a brief audience with him," Zuko ordered, addressing one of the masked guards, who bowed before slipping inside.

Even with his uncle's reassuring presence at his right, it was difficult not to fidget as he waited for the Fire Lord's response. Iroh began to hum an unfamiliar tune, shattering the thick silence of the hallway. It was very difficult not to snap at him.

The guard soon returned, and wordlessly held open the door for them. Zuko tried to hide his pleased grin and marched inwards, his uncle following at a more relaxed pace.

The Fire Lord was seated behind his elaborate desk, several scrolls and maps spread out before him, but he still managed to look like he was on his throne. Zuko's spine stiffened as he unconsciously attempted to improve his already perfect posture.

"Brother. What is the purpose of this visit?" he said, ignoring his son completely. Zuko did his best not to let his disappointment show on his face, but when his father's eyes narrowed further, he knew he had failed.

"It is not I who asked to see you, but Prince Zuko," Iroh said mildly.

Ozai's lips thinned in annoyance, and he turned his gaze to him. "Well?"

"I merely wished to ask why the Waterbender is being treated like the rest."

"Is there a reason she shouldn't be?" Ozai asked, tone sharp with impatience.

"She is the daughter of Chief Hakoda. I merely wondered why we haven't used her as leverage."

Ozai straightened. "Where did you learn this?"

"She told us herself," Zuko answered, taken aback by his sudden intensity. "She was brought to the stands to observe today's freedom duel, and said so when Azula asked for her name."

"You are absolutely certain that this is what she said?" his father pressed.

"Yes. Azula and our bodyguards were there, as well, if you wish for confirmation."

Ozai abruptly rose from his seat. "I must speak with a courier. You have done well in bringing this to my attention, Zuko. You are dismissed."

Zuko departed the study with a bounce in his step, smiling broadly. His father had praised him! For as long as he could remember, that had been reserved solely for Azula.

"Thank you, Uncle," he said jovially. "Now let's go play Pai Sho."

Iroh gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I am terribly sorry, nephew, but I am a bit more tired than I realized. Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Ah . . . yes, of course," Zuko said, surprised. It was very unlike Iroh to forgo a game of Pai Sho.

"Good night, then."

"Good night," he echoed, and watched his uncle leave. He was abruptly reminded of why this situation might be upsetting to Iroh; he had lost a child, too, and the use of another against their father would not sit well with him.

 _This is why Uncle wasn't fit for the throne. He's too soft-hearted, and that makes him weak,_ Zuko reminded himself, but it did nothing to ameliorate the guilt in his chest.

* * *

 _Sorry it's so short, but a lot happened in this chapter. I'm eager to see what you guys think. Don't worry, though; Katara isn't escaping the arena any time soon. There's gonna be plenty more morally dubious lessons from Hama, and Katara will blossom into the badass that she was in the show, without anything to limit her._

 _I always felt like she was sort of held back because she had to be everyone's mom, even her love interest's. (Ew.) Oedipal complexes don't make for compelling romance, Bryke. If she ever did anything Aang disapproved of or explored her dark side, then everyone but Zuko got pissy with her, even though Aang LITERALLY KILLED PEOPLE. (Season 1 finale, anyone?) And then, in Korra, her main legacy was "the Avatar's wife." Homegirl is way more than just that! There are a lot of great fics exploring those problems in canon, already, but this fic is gonna be about her delicious potential to be absolutely terrifying._


	7. Liar

_Sorry this is so late. I was planning for a lot more to happen but then it took forever to actually type and practically nothing had happened yet and I figured that I should just give up and publish the damn thing. The next chapter will be eventful, to say the least. Hope you enjoy!_

 _Warning for the abuse and interrogation of a minor, and some suicidal ideation. It's not as graphic as some of the other stuff in this fic, but it's still pretty bad._

* * *

When Katara was summoned by her master several hours later, she was not sure if it was anger or terror making her fists tremble. The huge guard escorting her was less aggressive than usual, either because he was reminded of just how easily Hama could literally take him apart, or perhaps leery of joining the scarred woman in the infirmary, as if antagonizing the Waterbender might offend the Fire Princess. The woman's punishment had been brief, but the medics were still stitching up the shredded skin on her back. That, at least, was the advantage prisoners had after punishments; the flames on the scourges the guards favored tended to melt the skin back together, even as it tore.

They were never offered help with injuries the guards decided they deserved, anyway. It was almost as common to die from infection in the compound as it was to get killed in an actual duel.

As soon as she was inside the luxuriously furnished cell, Katara sank to one knee, bracing one open palm on her thigh and the other on the carpet, and bowed her head. It was a position traditionally used in the Water Tribes to acknowledge another's superiority, or to beg for something not easily granted. Due to her tribe's relaxed hierarchy, she had only seen it used once, during the funeral of her father's predecessor, when the entire village had paid their respects. No matter how upset she was with her teacher, Hama owned her, and the questions she wanted to ask were safer when posed from a position of utmost reverence.

The guard paused in the doorway, surprised and obviously curious about her actions.

"Leave us," Hama ordered, tone hard. He hurried to comply, and as soon as the door slammed shut, she released a tired sigh. Every long, arduous year she had lived weighed heavily in her voice when she spoke again. "I expect you have questions, Katara. You may speak."

"I don't understand why you had to be so . . . so cruel, in your match against Tyro. And after, with the guards — you're powerful enough to kill all of them, but you didn't even try." Her voice trembled with accusation, but she still didn't dare to lift her head. She studied the curling blue dragon under her hand, inhaled the scent of fire lilies from the candles, and waited.

"I have tried before," Hama said tiredly. "But we are in the heart of the Fire Nation, Katara, with Firebenders on every side. I was lucky to escape with my life the first time, and even then, it was only because healed myself. I am too dangerous for them to allow for my survival a second time. They would eventually put me down, no matter how many of them I killed first."

Katara nodded once, conceding the point. She had only thought of the guards, and not the people in the stands. And even if one _did_ manage to defeat all of them, there was an entire city of enemies beyond that. Katara wondered if even the fabled Avatar, who had disappeared so long ago, would be able to escape were they in Hama's position.

"As for Tyro, the reason is simple. Why do you think that I've been the champion for so long?"

"Because you're powerful, master."

Hama chuckled raspily. "Not quite, _nuusiq._ The answer is that I am _entertaining._ "

Confused, Katara began to raise her head, but caught herself and anchored her gaze on Hama's feet.

"The freedom duels aren't simply a handy way of eliminating enemy benders. First and foremost, they are a business," Hama elaborated, contempt curling around every syllable. "Death is not enough for these pigs. They want pain. They want to see us desperate. The outcome of my matches are always a foregone conclusion. Were I to simply kill my opponents as soon as I saw them, they would get bored of me. So I would be killed, and then replaced."

Katara closed her eyes briefly, absorbing what her master had said. She was too afraid, too confused, too _angry._ She didn't understand, didn't _want_ to understand.

Tyro's screams still echoed in her ears.

"I am tired," Hama said, silencing Tyro a second time. "Have the guard take you back. Think on what I have told you."

* * *

The next day, Katara was summoned again, but not by Hama. This time, her escorts were soldiers, with ornate red armor and bone white masks. They collected her from the main hall without even bothering to tie her hands, guards and prisoners alike watching in awed, intimidated silence. Chen's eyes met hers, wide and afraid, and Katara did her best to smile reassuringly. She sent a beseeching glance at Bao, who nodded grimly and gripped Chen's shoulder, and then the doors of the hall clanged shut behind her.

They moved up through the metal corridors and eventually out of the compound altogether. Katara was thrilled to feel dirt beneath her feet, rather than metal or blood-soaked sand, but her heart beat hard in her chest. Were they going to execute her, because she was the chieftain's daughter? Were they going to imprison her someplace even _worse,_ where she'd never see the sky again?

As they turned onto the main street, the one that led to the palace, Katara realized that the answer was likely a whole lot worse. She became aware of curious, slightly derisive stares, and resisted the urge to stare at her feet. Instead, she squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and met them head on. The men, surprisingly, looked away more often, but the women tended to return her glares.

As they made their way through the palace grounds, Katara had to grudgingly admit that the capital was beautiful, if only on the surface. The clothes, the architecture, the plants, the weather, and even a sizeable number of the citizens were gorgeous, no matter how ugly their actions were.

It was ironic, she reflected, that the coldest thing about this spirits-forsaken land was its people.

The grounds inside the gates were even more breathtaking. Ornate red and gold pavilions dotted the manicured yards, flower patches splashing the green grass with other colors. Ancient, slender trees ringed a few different ponds, each connected by a wandering brook. There were even tiny bridges, though the water itself could be easily crossed with a step. Autumn was fast approaching, but the Fire Nation was temperate enough that only a few trees and bushes had begun to change color, dropping orange and yellow leaves like snow in slow motion. It was one of the most beautiful places Katara had ever seen in her life.

All she could think of was that she wanted _blue._

A guard abruptly took her shoulder in a bruising grip, and for a second she thought that they were worried she would try to bend. But then she was forced to her knees, and then her hands, and finally her forehead was pressed into the cobblestone pathway. She instinctively struggled against the gauntleted hand on the back of her neck, but froze at a familiar voice.

"Father, why is the Southern Waterbender here?"

Katara had only spoken to the Fire Princess once, but it was not a day that she would easily forget.

"Your brother informed me that she claimed to be Hakoda's daughter. She was brought here so that it could be ascertained whether she told the truth. She could be very useful."

The Fire Lord's voice was deep and smooth, but Katara shuddered at the sound, all the same. The man standing only a few feet away for her was responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands, and could cause her own with a mere word.

He was going to use her against her tribe, all because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. The world spun dangerously around her, and she was unspeakably grateful that she was already on the ground. She would not shame her mother by fainting in front of an enemy, when Kya had protected her so courageously two years ago.

"I thought you were already aware, father, or I would have told you myself—"

"But you didn't," Fire Lord Ozai said icily, and Azula fell silent. Katara surprised herself by feeling a flash of sympathy for the girl, which she quickly quashed.

"You may rise," the Fire Lord said, and Katara was hauled to her feet. She wasn't brave enough to look the Fire Lord in the face, so she instead turned to the princess, and was unsurprised to find her scowling at her. It wasn't _Katara's_ fault that she had been scolded, and the injustice of Azula having the gall to be displeased with her when _she_ was a the one who was imprisoned brought a challenging frown to her face.

One of the soldiers cuffed her skull none too gently for her disrespect, and Katara stumbled forward, refusing to be knocked down again. She was yanked back before she could collide with any royals, and she planted her feet once they let go of her, sick of being manhandled. Her eyes watered in response to the pain, and Azula gave an unladylike snort of mixed amusement and disgust.

The Fire Lord watched this exchange in silence, and then ordered the soldiers to take her to be interrogated. As they led her away, despite her dread, Katara felt incredibly relieved to leave the pair behind.

Instead of using the main entrance, which was presumably reserved for the court, they circled around the side of the palace. The grounds grew less beautiful and more utilitarian, and grim-faced imperial officers and meek, stressed servants replaced the courtiers and wealthy merchants who sought an audience with the king.

There were several gates leading out into the city along the way, and Katara realized that they had brought her here in the most public manner available. For whatever reason, they _wanted_ her to be seen in the palace, by as many people as possible.

They soon reached a heavy iron door in one of the stone courtyards where a cohort of soldiers practiced their drills under the watchful eye of a senior officer. They were too well-trained to become openly distracted from their training, but more than a few shot curious looks her way when they thought their superior wasn't watching.

The hallway beyond the door was well-lit but barren. This was a section of the castle meant for its defenders, for withstanding a siege. She was hustled deeper into its bowels, passing empty cells and rooms filled with tables with leather straps across them and pointed, barbaric tools, stained black on their various blades and spikes. She could hear faint screams echoing through the corridors, but she didn't know if they came from people or her own frightened imagination.

Was she going to be tortured for information?! She hadn't been home since she was a little girl, and knew next to nothing of the warriors' plans. Were they trying to scare her into obedience? Would they torture her, just to make sure she was telling the truth?

Katara found herself longing to be back in the arena.

They soon arrived in an empty, dark room. They shoved her into a chair and locked her down with the iron bars attached to its arms and legs, and left her there, the door slamming ominously shut behind them. The door allowed no light into the room, and Katara could only hear her own loud, panicked gasps and beating heart.

She did not know how long she sat there, too scared to cry or even blink, imagining a hundred horrible deaths that played out vividly in her mind's eye. It might have been a relief, when the door finally opened once more, had she not been absolutely certain that a Firebender could come up with a million ways to hurt her that would never even cross her mind.

A trio of soldiers marched in, two with balls of fire hovering over their palms to light the room, revealing dark, suspect stains on the floor and walls. Katara caught a glimpse of a strangely familiar insignia on one woman's shoulder before the trio turned to face her. The man standing between the two masked soldiers was even more nostalgic, but she couldn't quite place him—

"Well, brat," he mused, "Can't say I expected you to last this long."

Katara froze. It was the soldier from the boat — _her_ soldier, the only person she'd seen her entire time in the brig, two long years ago.

She jerked against her bonds, lips pulled back in a feral snarl. The masked soldiers flinched infinitesimally in surprise, either at the sudden movement or the sudden ferocity. " _Where is he_? _Where's the monster that burned my aana_?"

"Captain Rha, you mean?" he asked, with a sardonic smirk. "Currently enjoying his retirement."

Katara wanted to wail at the injustice of it all. Her mother was probably suffering right now, disfigured by burns, and he didn't even have the decency to die, to save her the trouble of hunting him down. "I'm going to kill him. I'll escape from here, and I'll _kill him_ "

The soldier kicked her chair over without warning, then grabbed her by the hair, wrenching her head up at an uncomfortable angle. "We're not here to listen to you badmouth a distinguished veteran, you little Water Tribe bitch," he said conversationally, but his yellow eyes glittered with the foul temper she had so feared as a child. "We're here to find out if you're _really_ that cowardly chief's daughter, like you had the gall to claim to Princess Azula. You'd better answer truthfully, or you _will_ regret it." He twisted his fist in her hair and then slammed her already bruised head back against the metal floor.

Katara saw stars, and felt something warm and wet start to pool under her skull. She was afraid, _so_ afraid, and tears were running from her eyes into her hair and ears. But, more than that, she was _enraged._ She would not let him win.

"'M not," she said thickly, voice trembling. "I lied. I thought I'd get special treatment. Please stop hurting me."

"I knew it. They never even bothered to come after you, you know. There's no way you're that ice rat's spawn."

Katara turned her head to the side, her lips trembling. She knew that their ships were slower — the main reason the Southern Raiders targeted their benders was to cripple their superior naval power. Hama had told her.

They couldn't risk rescue operations, either, not even in Hama's time. Their boats were made of wood, which made boarding a Fire Nation vessel a suicide mission. Even in Hama's time, their tribe's warriors were too few to risk them.

That didn't make it hurt any less.

"Whose child are you, anyway?" her soldier asked, straightening up and resting a boot on her sternum.

"Bato," she said. "The chief's second."

The soldier stilled, then stomped on her stomach, then spat in her eye. "Bato's proclivities are known even to us, you lying bitch. Don't underestimate the intelligence gathering of a superior nation." He growled like a polar bear dog, frustrated, and turned to his fellows. "Liars don't recant that easily, anyway, and she looks a lot like their chief, even if those rats all look the same. She was telling the truth to the Princess," he announced, then hauled her chair back upright. The world lurched and spun, and Katara tried desperately not to vomit.

"Should've figured they had no honor. Leaving their chief's daughter for dead. And she's their last bender, too. I would have expected nothing less." His disgust was evident, and she wanted to scream at him that they had no other choice, that they had been devastated by war, that her life was nothing when weighed against her tribe —

That she wanted her father to beg for her forgiveness.

"Gimme a kunai," her soldier ordered, holding out an expectant hand. The nearest underling hurried to obey, and he pushed her chin into her chest and sliced through her braid in one clean motion. "We'll be taking this with us," he stated, handing it off to the woman. "Scorch the ends a little, make it look bad." Katara's stomach churned at the scent of burning hair.

He paused in the doorway of her cell, silhouette completely dark now that his escorts and their fire had left. "You're in luck, princess," he mocked. "I can't kill you, now that you're useful. More useful to us than to your tribe, it seems." The door slammed shut, and Katara was left in darkness once again.

She sat there, trying not to pass out, hating herself, and wishing that he had.

* * *

 _Hang in there, guys. I swear it'll get exciting again soon. The next time Katara deals with someone trying to beat her face in, she will do some face beating in response, pinky promise._

 **Edited May 14, 2018.**


	8. Abandonment

_God, I am so, so sorry for the lateness. And also, nothing really big happens in this chapter. No Zuko, either, but he'll return next time, and I'm preeeeetty sure that the chapter after next will jump start the main plot._

 _Also: Azula! Yay! She is sooooo fun to write, and I love exploring the dichotomy between her and Katara. They're the perfect foils for each other, and I really wish they could've interacted more in canon. I could write whole essays about them because they're so interesting asdfghjkl;_

* * *

When Hakoda heard that a Fire Nation ship had requested parley, he didn't know what to think. He suspected a trap, but denying them would only provoke an attack, if that's what they were planning. He preferred to face them on open waters, with his warriors at his back, far away from his son and his village.

The ships of the Southern Raiders were just as ugly as he remembered. The Fire Nation had no respect for the art of shipbuilding, sacrificing workmanship and maneuverability for raw power and size. It was a flaw that he and his men had exploited many times in the past, but no matter how convenient, they were still eyesores.

He and several of his most intimidating warriors sailed out on canoes to meet their spokesmen in the stretch of no-man's-water between the fleets. He noted with satisfaction that the motorboats the Fire Nation favored struggled against the currents, nearly capsizing at least twice, while their canoes slid cleanly in and out of them, using them to go where they wished with minimal effort.

Their commander was new — not the old man who murdered his wife and likely sent his daughter to her death, but a younger one with a crooked nose and yellow eyes. Hakoda was careful not to let his rage show on his face. It was just as well, really; if he had seen Yon Rha, he wouldn't trust himself to keep the truce, and his men would not have made an effort to stop him. They had all lost friends and homes to the raiders, though none of them had experienced a loss like Hakoda's since the last trained bender was taken decades ago.

"Chief Hakoda," the commander greeted. "We come here today to ask for your unconditional surrender."

Hakoda barked out a laugh that didn't sound much like a laugh at all. Beside him, Bato, his second, and Arnaq, a young but accomplished fighter, bristled at the blatant disregard of the Southern Water Tribe's might. "You must be joking."

The new commander and his aides were unmoved. Hakoda noted, with some surprise, that one of them was a woman. His tribe might be less conservative than their sister in the north, but sending women to war was still unheard of. Even when it came to defending the village, only benders were even considered capable of fighting. He was surprised that the girl's family had allowed her to enlist.

"Perhaps this will change your mind," the commander said, a sharp smile tugging at his lips. He took a silk envelope and a scroll from his male aide, and threw them across the water between them. Arnaq snatched them from the air with barely a movement from the canoe they sat in. He handed them to Hakoda, whose stomach clenched at the sight of the Fire Lord's seal.

"What is this?" he muttered warily, half to himself.

"An update on your daughter's well being."

Hakoda's head snapped up, even as Bato and Arnaq's hands went to their weapons. "What did you say?" he whispered, only just keeping his voice from trembling.

"The little Waterbender we took two years ago. Your daughter. We only recently found out, but she was very brave to keep quiet for so long. Not that bravery is a virtue, when the Fire Lord wants answers."

"What did you _do to her_?!" Hakoda growled, rising to his feet and rocking the canoe. Bato tried to put a hand on his arm, but he shook him off.

"Nothing she didn't survive, surprisingly enough," the commander said, watching him closely with a satisfied smirk. "Though I'm surprised you care at all, considering that you didn't even try to get her back."

Hakoda grit his teeth, ignoring the familiar stab of guilt. "If you hurt her, I swear to the spirits I'll—"

"We already have, but we guarantee that she'll live if you surrender now."

"Hakoda, we have no way of knowing if they're telling the truth," Bato said urgently.

"We are. I know you're unfamiliar with the concept of honor, but be assured of ours, if not your own," the commander cut in. Hakoda was distantly aware that some of his men had gathered along one side of his ship, drawn by the sound of his enraged voice echoing across the water. "Open the package."

With trembling fingers, Hakoda undid the clasp on the face of the red silk envelope, and turned it over. A long, slender shape fell to the floor of the canoe, and for a second he thought it was a rope. But when he picked it up, felt its softness against his fingers, he realized that it was a braid, done in a traditional Southern Water Tribe style, with a roll of hair near the top. The shorn end was caked in dry, flaking blood, and the tail was blackened and burnt.

"The scroll has more detailed information on what will happen to her and what our terms are, written by the Fire Lord himself. You must be honored."

"I. . ." Hakoda began, rasping, and then continued in a stronger tone, "I will discuss this with the council. We will tell you our decision at this time tomorrow."

The commander looked less than pleased, but acquiesced. As Bato and Arnaq guided the canoe back to the ship, Hakoda sank back and ran his daughter's braid through his fingers, over and over and over again.

* * *

The conference in the main lodge was long and passionate. His men and the representatives from the satellite villages refused to surrender under any circumstances, whereas more than half of the elders insisted that the safety of the last Southern Waterbender took precedence. Neither side ever referred to Katara by name.

Hakoda sat at one end of the room, with his mother by his side. They did not address the crowd, but waited silently for a verdict.

"The girl is likely the last Waterbender our tribe will produce," asserted one elder, "Her birth was a miracle, and to throw her away, the last chance our tribe will have to create a new generation of Southern benders, would anger the spirits."

"Not any more than giving up our way of life and surrendering to the Fire Nation would!" Arnaq said, and the warriors, save Bato, roared in agreement.

"If we could get her back, she would be an enormous military asset."

"An untrained child? And a woman, at that? We have no way of teaching her anything, and even if we married her off it would take years before her sons were battle-ready—"

"She is a child," Kanna snapped, and it was a mark of how respected she was that an elderly Northern woman could make the whole lodge go silent. "She will not marry, and she will not fight. Not for a few years yet."

"That only goes to show that she can't help our tribe," Arnaq said, glancing at Hakoda apologetically. "Waterbender or not, our focus should be on the wellbeing of our people." No one pointed out that Katara was included in that number.

Hakoda stood, and every eye came to rest on him. "Then there is only one answer we can give them." He strode to the flap, then paused, and addressed his men. "We sail to meet them at sunrise. Every one of you should be prepared for battle."

When he left, none followed.

* * *

Hakoda, blinded by grief, did not notice the small figure hunched outside the lodge, one ear pressed to the taut sealskin of the wall. It sat there for a long moment, frozen, the battle plans being made inside falling on deaf ears. It drew itself up, stumbling over its feet, numb from cold and shock, and broke into a run.

Sokka burst into his dark, empty family igloo. Thankfully, his father was still out, and so did not notice his absence. He threw himself onto the soft pile of furs that he had last shared with his sister over two years ago, and let himself cry, his horror and confusion and betrayal making itself known with a vengeance. He hadn't cried since his mother had died, and it _hurt_.

But the feeling that kept his tears coming, long after his _ataa_ and _emaa-emaa_ had returned and gone to sleep without knowing that he was still awake, was his guilty, overwhelming sense of _relief_.

* * *

Barely three months after Hakoda's refusal to surrender and the resulting skirmish with the Raiders, which had been an overwhelming victory due to the warriors' guerilla tactics and superior naval capabilities, the men of the tribe set sail for the southern shores of the Earth Kingdom, where they would coordinate with resistance fighters and disrupt Fire Nation supply lines and warships. They would not return home for several years.

Hakoda left his twelve year old son to defend a village full of elders and children with nothing but a club, a boomerang, and a promise. Sokka, for three years, lay awake beside his grandmother, fearful but relieved that there was still hope for the future. He tried not to think of his little sister, tried to reassure himself that she was with their _aana_ now, that she forgave him, but his dreams were still haunted by the smell of burnt flesh.

* * *

Katara had seen all sorts of jails, in the two years since she had been captured, but the one in the bowels of the palace was inarguably the worst. It was used mainly to hold political prisoners with valuable intel, and so was intentionally made as unpleasant a place to stay as possible. Her cell was cramped and filthy, with a pile of moldy straw in one corner serving as her bed. The guards were less actively sadistic than the ones she was used to, but she supposed that they more than sated their bloodlust with all the interrogations they performed, day in, day out.

She supposed that she was lucky that they'd already gotten what they wanted from her, but the near-constant screams, the ubiquitous scent of blood, sweat, urine, and feces, and the sight of limp bodies dragged through the hallways were more than enough to drive her near-insane. Katara thought that hell must be something very similar to this.

Her limbs were permanently chained together, so she couldn't do much more than crawl. They fed her once a day, and allowed her to relieve herself in a chamber pot after she had eaten. She was pathetically grateful that they didn't make her stay in her in her own filth, like they did with some of the prisoners who were more difficult to break.

Katara soon found herself longing for the Freedom Duels. She had once thought they were the most reprehensible things imaginable, but the Fire Nation never ceased to surprise her with the sheer inventiveness of their cruelty. At least there they had a vested interest in keeping her in fighting shape, but here, as long as she didn't die, they could do anything they liked.

When she realized that she had likely doomed her father to the same fate, she wept and screamed until one of the interrogators threatened to give her something else to cry about.

Several days later — she wasn't sure of just how many — an imperial guard came for her. She could tell that they weren't an interrogator because there weren't any bloodstains on their armor or their skull mask. They came in and hauled her up without a word, dragging her out of her cell and up through the halls because her legs were bound to keep her from walking.

Katara's unease grew the further they ascended, the sunlight making her squint even as she struggled to keep mostly upright. The chains soon became hot against her bare arms and she went limp, unwilling to risk burns that she wouldn't be able to heal.

Even though they were going through passages and courtyards populated solely by servants, who whispered and pointed as she was dragged past, she could tell that her surroundings were growing steadily more opulent. What was going on? Was the Fire Lord planning on publicly executing her?! Did Fire Nation nobles have nothing better to do than to watch people die violently?!

The next courtyard they entered was even more beautiful than the one she had seen when she first arrived at the palace, but her panic gave her little ability to appreciate it. She began to wriggle against her bonds once more, gritting her teeth against the hiss of heated metal where the guard's hand touched her chains.

Katara's futile rebellion came too late, however, and she was unceremoniously dropped like a stack of driftwood.

"The Waterbender, Princess," the soldier droned, impressively toneless considering the annoyance evident in their less than gentle handling.

"Excellent," came an unfortunately familiar voice. "You may leave."

The guard shifted reluctantly, and ventured, "Princess, we aren't supposed to leave her unguarded—"

"She's practically hogtied, she isn't going anywhere," Azula sniffed, and insouciantly stepped over Katara, who was attempting to roll her front out of the dirt (with limited success). "Unless you're doubting my ability to keep a restrained, untrained little Waterbending savage from harming me?"

"N-no, Princess, of course not," the guard said. They bowed low and beat a hasty retreat. Katara wasn't naive enough or lucky enough to believe that the courtyard wasn't surrounded by soldiers, but it was nice to have them out of sight. It was the first time since she was eight that there wasn't one within a few yards of her.

Azula, after snickering at her ineffectual writhing for a moment, dug a pointed boot into her ribs and flipped her onto her back. "Enjoying your stay in the palace so far?"

Katara glared icicles up at her pretty, smirking face, and resolutely kept her mouth shut.

"So this is the Water Tribe princess? She's so pretty!" a bubbly voice gushed, and a brightly smiling girl popped into view. "Not as pretty as you, Azula, but still."

"She smells," another girl opined, in bored monotone. "Do Waterbenders not wash?"

Katara sat up, gritting her teeth at the way her weight and the chains were crushing her hands, and growled, "Do Firebenders not teach their children manners?"

Azula laughed, and the third girl sighed gloomily.

"Don't mind her, Mai, she likes to pretend to be brave. But you're right, she is rather filthy." Another smirk split her face. "I wonder… can Waterbenders swim in chains?"

Katara stiffened, but opened her big fat mouth, anyway. "Can Firebenders learn to shut up?"

Azula sneered, abruptly less amused. "Mai, Ty Lee, throw her in the pond. Maybe we'll learn something."

"I have to _touch_ her?" Mai asked, sounding disgusted.

"C'mon, Mai, it'll be funny!" Ty Lee chirped, grabbed her under her armpits, and lifted her clear off the ground. Katara flinched, surprised. _Useless, pampered nobleman's spawn she is not._

Mai lifted her feet with considerably less enthusiasm, and they began carrying her to somewhere she couldn't see, no matter how much she twisted. Ty Lee's hands were like iron, so she couldn't dislodge her grip, but Katara managed to kick Mai in the stomach. She stopped fighting once the knives came out.

Panic was twisting in her gut once again. She had apparently avoided execution, but for what? She was going to drown at the whim of a couple Fire Nation leeches. Hama would be so embarrassed if she ever found out. She forced herself to breathe. She was the last Southern Waterbender, and water was her element. She'd be fine.

Ty Lee stopped and began to swing her, Mai following suit at her insistence, and Katara closed her eyes, trying to reach out and feel the tug of the water, trying to stay calm. It still didn't stifle her shriek once she was tossed into the air, weightless for all of a second before the water closed above her head.

She sat up a moment later, dripping and humiliated. Azula was giggling openly, the sound disconcertingly sharp for a girl her age, while Ty Lee followed suit, her laughter much more sincere and all the more grating for it. Even dour Mai gave a loud snort.

A turtleduck quacked in alarm as a thin layer of ice spread across the pond, and she spat icicles at her trio of tormentors. They flew maybe two feet and fell harmlessly to the ground.

Ty Lee giggled harder. Mai just smirked.

Azula, however, was watching her carefully. "Manipulating an element without the use of your limbs is… impressive. I can do it, of course, but most our age can't." She stepped closer, expression abruptly calculating.

"Maybe Firebenders are just slow," Katara said mulishly, shivering in the mild autumn air, frost in her hair and in the folds of her clothes. She hadn't actually meant to freeze anything, but there was no way she was letting _them_ know that. She'd just been so _angry._

Katara was still angry, but the discomfort from accidentally giving herself brain freeze made spitting more icicles seem unwise.

Azula smiled the way she had when they first met, before she had first seen her cry. "You're going to be my new sparring partner."

* * *

 **Edited May 14, 2018.**


	9. Equalize

_This is inexcusably late. It kept getting away from me and I could never find a good stopping point and it took me ages to actually write the damn thing. Bleh._

* * *

After the princess's ominous announcement, Katara was unceremoniously fished from the pond by a few reluctant servants. Katara's energy was already spent from her earlier display of anger, and she didn't particularly feel like harming people that already had to put up with Azula all day.

She still struggled, of course. No need to make things easy for them — they were still Fire Nation.

One of the servants yelped when one particularly enthusiastic thrash caused a splash larger than what was strictly possible for non-Waterbenders, reared back, and fell onto her behind in the shallows. Katara snickered, but bit her tongue when she realized that Azula and her lackeys were laughing as well.

Crimson-faced and soaked from the waist down, the servant struggled to her feet and wound up for a backhand. Katara flinched back (her head was still sore from her interrogation a few days ago, as she could hardly heal herself in the heart of enemy territory), but the blow never came.

"Did I _tell_ you to hit her?" Azula asked, her words cast in iron. The second servant inched away, and the one who had fallen sank into a ninety degree bow, her hair brushing the pond's surface.

"No, Princess. I overstepped. Please forgive this unworthy one's transgression." The apology was fluent, and obviously a fairly common occurrence within the palace, but her voice still trembled.

"As she is to be my sparring partner, she is not to be harmed by anyone but me or my father, or people acting upon our orders. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Princess," they murmured.

"Then you may rise, and continue with your duties."

The first servant finally straightened her back, and the two resumed dragging Katara back out. She didn't struggle this time, as she couldn't afford to incur Azula's wrath without the use of her (rudimentary) healing abilities.

"I don't feel like sparring you right now," Azula said, inspecting her nails. They had been filed into points, like talons. "I've already humiliated Zuzu today and I'm not really in the mood to do it again." Katara's jaw clenched, and the princess's lips curved slightly in response.

A guard was summoned to haul Katara back to the dungeons. With the skull mask and crimson, hulking armor, she had no way of knowing if this was the same person who had brought her up, but this time she was slung over their shoulder.

For a second, she was back in time, black flakes in the air and her mother's blood on her hands as she watched her _aningaaq_ chase fruitlessly after her. She wondered if Sokka had changed at all, if he missed her, what he was doing right now. Her heart twisted sharply, as if trying to wring out all of her homesickness.

Katara was docile all the way back to her cell, drowning in memories and trying desperately not to cry. When the guard set her down almost gently, apropos of Azula's recent orders, the tides finally came in. It was the first time in almost a week that someone had touched her without the intent to harm. As her cell door slammed shut, she started to sob, uncaring of how her short, uneven hair was plastered to her cheeks or how the straw stuck to her damp skin and clothes. She wished for Hama, for Bao, for Chen.

She knew better than to wish for her family. Impossible dreams were no comfort.

* * *

When Katara woke, some time later, there was a tray awaiting her by the gate. But it was decidedly not prison fare. It was arranged beautifully, the both the cup and the tray itself glazed and painted. The cup itself was much larger than the one she was allowed — thirst was a constant companion in her life since she came to the Fire Nation. Beside it was a small plate artfully arranged with a number of white, pink, and green buns.

Katara rolled from her straw pile and inchwormed forward, her limbs still bound. She hadn't stretched properly for days, and her muscles and joints had begun to cramp and stiffen in protest. She tried not to think about what exactly she was smearing all over her front, and tried her best to keep her chin from touching the dried muck on the cell floor. Once she reached the tray, she rolled onto her back and sat up, flexing her much-abused hands behind her.

Someone had thoughtfully left a straw in the cup. She sipped greedily, grateful that she didn't have to lap it up like a dog, or worse, spill it. The tea was bitter, but of much higher quality than the low-grade bancha they served under the arena, which often still had twigs in it. The buns she had to pick up with her teeth, but they were so delicious she didn't spare a thought to the inconvenience. They were delicious, and very filling, full of rich red bean paste.

All too soon, her treat was gone. Katara had never had something so sweet in her life, and berated herself for eating so quickly. But who had bothered to give her this? Was it because she was Azula's new sparring partner? It hardly seemed the Fire Princess's style. She probably thought that getting to fight her was a reward in and of itself. Had some servant or guard taken pity on her? That was almost as unlikely.

She decided not to dwell on it any longer. Katara did not want the spirits to think her ungrateful in her suspicion. "Thank you," she said, soft but heartfelt. "Tui and La, and anyone else watching over me, thank you. Especially whoever gave this to me."

* * *

That evening at dinner, Zuko noted that both his sister and his uncle seemed more cheerful than earlier.

Seated beside him, on their father's right, Azula was smirking to herself as she ate. She paid little attention to Ty Lee's chatter from farther down the table. Mai had long since left for her parents' estate just outside the palace, but Ty Lee's parents only ever retrieved their daughter when the princess tired of her company.

Seated across from his sister, at their father's left, was his uncle. Iroh was smiling at nothing in particular, savoring his tea and occasionally slurping at his noodles. Zuko was glad that he had gotten over his funk, but the humming was a little grating. Ozai certainly seemed to think so, but he could hardly reprimand his elder brother, no matter how far Iroh's standing in court had fallen.

Sometimes, Zuko wondered if his uncle did such things on purpose.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh said, momentarily silencing the twittering courtiers at the lower end of the table. The Dragon of the West rarely spoke publicly anymore, though he would readily share meaningless proverbs and anecdotes with any who still bothered to engage him. "What kind of tea do children like best?"

The chatter started up again as the lesser nobles decided that the soft-minded first prince had nothing interesting to say.

"I'm twelve, Uncle. Hardly a child," Zuko said, a little testily.

"Ah, forgive me. Princess Azula?"

"I hardly care about something as inane as _tea,_ " Azula snapped, causing another lull in noise. Zuko spotted his father's lips twitch, and he pointedly did not reprimand his daughter.

"I see," Iroh said diplomatically, his smile never falling.

There was an awkward pause, and then the courtiers hurriedly pretended not to be paying attention and re-engaged each other in conversation.

"I like matcha," Ty Lee offered. "It's nice and sweet!"

Iroh gave her his full attention, as if what she was saying was of great import. "A fine choice. What do you think of sencha?"

Zuko tuned them out, uninterested. Beside him, Azula looked annoyed, but did not push her luck.

"The servants inform me that you intend to use the Waterbender as a sparring partner," Ozai said suddenly. Zuko looked up, surprised.

"Yes, father," Azula replied. "I think it would be beneficial to learn how to combat other bending styles, for when we take the North."

Ozai smiled approvingly.

"Then I'll spar with her, too," Zuko blurted.

Azula narrowed her eyes. "No, you won't. She's mine to fight."

"I'll just spar against her on days when you don't!"

"Then I'll fight her every day!"

"Then I'll spar with her after you!"

"Prince Zuko," Iroh interjected, "she is only a child. I do not think that it would be wise to force her to fight two trained Firebenders every day."

Zuko scowled, his face flushing. To be openly scolded by his disgraced uncle! In front of his father, and over the welfare of a prisoner! He could feel Ozai's eyes on him, could see his sister smiling, but he had no idea what to say. He heard the Fire Lord snort derisively, and it took all he had not to sink below the table.

After the final course had been served and the royal family had retired, Iroh drew him aside into a shadowed alcove.

"I'm sorry to have disagreed with you, Prince Zuko. I did not fully consider your position."

"You humiliated me in front of my father, and for what?!" Zuko snapped. "The comfort of some filthy Waterbender?!"

His uncle's face hardened. "The child is going through enough already. There is no need to add to her hardships."

"What hardships?" he growled. "She's in the palace of the greatest nation in the world! If anything, she's better off here than in some tent, raised as a savage in a backwater tribe!"

"You know _nothing_ if that is what you truly believe," Iroh said, and Zuko stilled. He had never heard his uncle speak so solemnly. Half of his face was cast in shadow, his eyes glowing with faint lantern light, and his expression was not that of Iroh, the abdicated prince, or even that of the proud, fearsome Dragon of the West. It was the face of a wise, sorrowful old man, a warrior who had seen and lost too much.

His surprise must have shown on his too-expressive face, because his uncle's expression softened. "Good night, nephew. I will see you tomorrow."

* * *

Despite her mixed feelings about fighting Azula, and her fear for her father's life, once he learned she was alive, Katara's spirits had raised considerably. The sweet buns proved that someone in the palace — perhaps an Earth Kingdom spy! — was sympathetic to her plight, and wanted to help her.

Tui and La were looking out for her, as one of their favored children, and she felt that her situation was not so hopeless. Whatever was done to her, she would survive; her value as a bargaining chip guaranteed it. Maybe her father's warriors would mount a rescue mission! Maybe the North would finally come to their aid, if they knew the last of their sister tribe's benders was still held captive! Maybe the spy would help her escape!

Katara paused, and snorted at herself. "Yeah, maybe the Avatar will come back, too," she muttered. Nevertheless, she still felt more hope than she had in years.

As the hours passed, Katara became anxious. The prison beneath the castle was still horrifying, and she shrank into the shadows whenever interrogators pulled a struggling victim or a limp body past the bars of her cage. Would she look like that, when Azula was done with her?

Finally, when her only meal of the day was well behind her, a guard from above came to fetch her. This time she was held under their arm like a rolled-up futon, their gauntlet and bracer digging into her concave belly with every step taken. The combination of nausea, hunger, and discomfort was interesting, but unpleasant, and she distracted herself by counting the people they passed in the halls. The number was not reassuring when compared to her father's warriors.

The floor beneath her changed from stone to tile to wood to carpet to grass. Katara squinted at the sudden burst of sunlight, craning her neck to see the sky and scowling at the distinct lack of clouds. The guard carrying her, who wasn't even panting under the burden of their armor and her (admittedly slight) weight, marched straight through the garden this time, and arrived at a wide courtyard with a paved floor instead of hard-packed dirt or sand.

"The princess scared of a little dirt?" Katara sneered, and received a belligerent jostle that made her clamp her lips shut and focus on keeping her lunch where she wanted it.

"Finally," Azula said pointedly, and the soldier snapped to attention. Katara looked up as best she could, and found the princess and her two lackeys sitting at a shaded table piled high with various delicious-looking dishes and pitchers of cool drinks. Her stomach rumbled audibly, and she flushed at Ty Lee's giggle.

"You can put her down," Azula ordered, and the guard did so, uncaring of which end of her hit the ground first. Katara swayed dangerously, but stayed mercifully upright. When the guard reached for her chains, Azula waved them away.

"I'd like our prisoner to keep us company while we eat. You can unchain her afterwards."

"I won't be much good in a fight if I haven't stretched," Katara blurted, ignoring the noticeable surprise on the girls' faces at her gall. She was desperate to move her limbs, to regain the feeling in her extremities. She was desperate not to embarrass herself in their upcoming spar.

Azula smirked. "I forgot how mouthy you can be, sometimes. Very well." She flicked her fingers at the guard, who hesitated only a moment before doing as she asked.

Katara sighed in relief when the weight of her chains was lifted, immediately rubbing at her wrists and ankles and frowning at the rawness she found.

"Don't I get a 'thank you, Princess Azula?'" Azula asked, all honey and venom.

Katara looked at the set of her brows and mouth, the gleam in her eyes, and sensed that she was pushing her luck. She decided to push it some more. "Thank you, Princess Azula," she replied, just as sweetly. "I just wanted to ensure that I wouldn't bore you."

Azula smiled again. "Very well. That's more than I can say for most people in this castle."

Behind the princess, Ty Lee shifted nervously, and Mai's omnipresent scowl grew just a tad. Katara shot them her biggest grin. "Considering your friends, I can see why that might be a problem."

This time, Azula laughed outright. It was quick and sharp, almost as if surprised out of her, and it ended just as quickly. "You're just as brazen as your mentor. We'll soon see if you have the skill to back it up."

Katara fell silent, and Azula's shoulders shifted downwards a fraction. She turned back to her companions and joined them at their table. Ty Lee shot Katara a pitying look that she couldn't bring herself to scowl at through her nerves. Mai's lips just quirked.

While the three nobles ate and chatted, Katara moved through one of the katas that Hama had shown her. After over a week in chains, it was harder than she remembered, and she grew even hungrier and thirstier than she had been before. She tried not to look at the table too often, but she was sure that they knew just how much it distracted her. Ty Lee remarked on how delicious everything was almost as often as her father did when _Emaa-Emaa_ made sea prunes.

Her lips pinched at the unwelcome memory, and she forced herself to focus on her forms. She could be homesick in her cell.

Azula took her sweet time, lingering over her food and making unflattering observations on her athleticism to Mai and Ty Lee, who either snorted or giggled just loud enough to irritate her. She ground her teeth ever harder, and knew that she was reacting exactly how Azula wanted her to. Realizing that she was being successfully manipulated just made her temper worse, instead of better, but she put her anger into her movements, enough to make her forceful but not sloppy.

"Well, that was tedious," the princess remarked, once Katara had come back into a neutral stance. "Are you as slow physically as you are mentally?"

Katara whirled and stomped over, the amusement on the girls' faces incensing her further. "Big words, coming from a pampered royal _brat,_ " she hissed, the pitchers on their picnic table trembling from the force of their contents jerking toward her, eager to serve as her weapon. "What, still upset that your big brother noticed something you didn't and told daddy before you could?"

Azula stood up abruptly, even as her companions went pale. The sneer on her face would normally make Katara retreat, but all she could feel was satisfaction on seeing her own rage reflected back to her by a girl who had caused so much of it.

"If you're that desperate to get burnt to a crisp, then I'd be happy to get started a little early," Azula said coldly, even as the air around her shimmered with heat.

Katara responded by upsetting all their pitchers and cups ("I was drinking that," Mai griped, a little shakily, as she and Ty Lee evacuated to the observation balcony) and shooting frozen milk daggers directly at Azula's eyes. She dodged via a perfectly executed backbend, resting her weight on her hands and kicking two surges of flame towards her opponent. Katara was forced to make a shield, grimacing as a large portion of her element went up in steam. She could reform it, but it would take time and energy that she couldn't spare.

Azula's kicks turned into a handspring and she was on her feet again, punching a fireball that Katara dodged easily. Her expression was calculating, as Katara could tell she was being gauged, but anger and satisfaction had overwhelmed the fear that she lived with daily. It was intoxicating.

Katara threw out a crescent blade of ice that shattered under the heat of Azula's retaliatory fire, but she had been counting on that, and had left intentional cracks that made it explode outward, much more quickly and with far greater force than she could yet manage on her own. Hama had taught her that fire's volatile power made it almost as dangerous to the wielder, and that the most reliable way to defeat a stronger opponent was to target their control.

Surprised, Azula crossed her arms in front of her face defensively, and Katara pressed her advantage. The frozen shrapnel that had gone towards her quickly melted under her command, and after Azula had weathered a rain of jagged ice and put her arms back into a bending position, a blast of water hit her full force in the stomach and knocked her backwards.

Katara hadn't counted on the princess keeping her feet, and was thus unprepared for the viper-quick blast of flame. She twisted away, unable to form a shield quick enough, and screamed when she felt her part of her back and left hip get bathed in fire. The intimately familiar scent of burnt flesh invaded her nostrils and her memories, but she ignored the searing pain and continued her twirl, a full circle. She sent a clumsy but forceful rain of icicles in the direction that the fire had come from, her vision blurry with tears.

Azula was still there, clearly not expecting her to continue fighting, and had to jump to the side to avoid getting skewered. She shot another stream of flame, and so their battle raged on.

* * *

Zuko had been with one of his Firebending teachers when he heard the sounds of an out-and-out brawl from the courtyard next to his. It was bigger and with better access to the sun, and so reserved for Azula's use.

"What in Agni's name is that?" the latest tutor yelped, her shock a welcome respite from her thinly veiled disdain for his bending skills.

 _Azula must be fighting the Waterbender!_ Zuko realized, equal parts incensed and excited. Most Fire Nation citizens had never and would never see a Waterbender other than the Puppetmaster in action. As much as he wished _he_ could have an opportunity to fight her, an opportunity to observe was almost as good.

He dashed off without bothering to retrieve his shirt or shoes, smirking just a little at his teacher's indignant, "Prince Zuko!"

He arrived just in time to see the Waterbender's blade explode, and had to duck behind the iron railing of the observation balcony to avoid the higher flying shards of ice. He registered someone huddled beside him, and made a moment's eye contact with a wide-eyed Ty Lee before he was up again, not wanting to miss a second of the fight. As soon as Zuko's head had cleared the railing, a blast of — what was that, juice? — hit his sister and sent her skidding back, her normally schooled expression slack with shock and pain. Was she _losing_?

But no, Azula never lost. She recovered faster than Zuko could manage even against a teacher trying not to hurt him. There was a scroll-perfect fire blast and a shriek of pain that set his teeth on edge and that, Zuko figured, was that, as it was whenever Azula landed a hit on an opponent.

But the Waterbender kept fighting, unphased, even as tears streamed down her cheeks and were simply pulled to join the rest of her element, as if her pain was just another weapon. She never let Azula rest, forcing her to dance around the courtyard with frozen, jagged blades and thin tendrils of water that cracked like whips against every surface they hit. She was making her defense her offense, trying to tire Azula out, but Zuko knew it wouldn't beat her; he had tried the same tactic himself, before.

What was amazing was that she was making his sister _work_ for her victory.

Usually, when Azula sparred, she was openly bored. Their teachers did not dare use potentially damaging attacks against a royal, even though she outclassed many of them, and she ran rings around Zuko no matter how hard he fought. But now, even as she dodged lethal hail and shot quick blasts of superheated flames, she was _grinning_ , her face and movements energetic and enthusiastic, as if she was seconds away from laughing in delight.

The Waterbender, in contrast, was heavily wounded; Zuko could see where her tunic had burnt away, could see the angry red burn beneath. He was no stranger to burns, and something like that would have him out of commission fairly quickly. But she was still fighting like a cornered animal, trading lightning-quick attacks with his sister, her teeth bared in a challenging snarl, her tears still coming and instantly put to use. Where had she learned to fight with wounds like that?

 _Oh_ , Zuko thought. He felt a little bit sick. He pushed the thought from his mind, but it lingered in his stomach, even as he focused on the spectacle below him.

But all too soon, most of her water had turned to steam, and she was weakening, favoring her left side and trembling with pain and fatigue. Azula circled closer and closer, like a catyena, and when she spotted a crack in the Waterbender's defenses she shattered them completely. She darted forward and forced the Waterbender to her knees, one hand at her head and the other at her chest, able to roast her in an instant.

Azula and the girl stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, both breathing heavily, the Waterbender's gasps interspersed with soft, involuntary noises of pain. She was still crying, but quietly, her tears thin from heat and dehydration. Zuko noticed, from the corner of his eye, that the courtyard was ringed with spectators, soldiers and servants alike. Even the balcony was full of courtiers, though they had left a respectful distance between themselves and the prince and Azula's friends.

The Waterbender — Katara, she had said her name was Katara — broke the silence. "Well?" she croaked, chest heaving. "Kill me."

* * *

Katara's heart was hammering in her chest, but she refused to look away from Azula's bright golden eyes. She would look a monster in the face and greet it with courage. She was her mother's daughter, after all.

There was a long pause. Azula's face, still flushed and open from their fight, showed a microsecond of confusion before her composed Fire Princess mask slammed down once more.

"Idiot," she said, and stepped back, arms lax by her sides. "I can't kill you. You're a political prisoner."

Katara teetered for a moment, disbelieving, before the trembling in her limbs won out and she fell facedown. Adrenaline, confusion, and overwhelming relief warred in her brain, and she said, "Oh. I figured you'd kill me anyway."

"I could," the princess reassured her. "But I'm tired right now and I don't feel like it."

"Okay," Katara said agreeably. Wow, did all Fire Nation courtyards spin like this?

Passing out while surrounded by Firebenders wasn't what her _sifu_ would want her to do. Katara did it anyway.

* * *

The entire courtyard stared at the Waterbender for about thirty excruciating seconds before it became apparent that she was unconscious.

His sister sighed. "Someone bring her to the infirmary," she ordered. "And clean her up, too, she's filthy."

A few servants inched forward.

"Use a stretcher, imbeciles," Azula snapped, a little half-heartedly. "And bring me something to drink. I'll be in my chambers." She marched off, not completely masking the stiffness in her limbs or the way she tried not to move her torso.

Once the Waterbender and Azula were gone, chatter in the courtyard grew louder and louder, even as people began to drift out.

"...a child…"

"...political prisoner?..."

"...Puppetmaster…"

"...Southern Water Tribe…"

"...the Puppetmaster…"

"...her pupil?..."

Eventually, only Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee were left, along with a few servants hovering discreetly behind them in case they needed someone.

"That was… really amazing," said Ty Lee, a little enviously.

"I guess," Mai muttered, eyeing Zuko surreptitiously. Before his mother had vanished, he used to get along with her pretty well, but he hadn't actually spoken to her one-on-one since then.

Besides, right now he had more pressing concerns on his mind.

"I guess she really is the daughter of the Southern Water Tribe Chieftain," Zuko said, half to himself. Furious whispers broke out from the cluster of servants behind them.

"That didn't prove anything," Mai said.

"I've heard lots of stories about the Southern Water Tribe and their chief, though," Ty Lee speculated. "They say that they fight like wolves, and kill as many as they can if they get surrounded. It's supposed to be impossible to take one of them alive. And their war chief, Hakoda, is supposed to be the smartest of them all. They chose him, out of all the other chieftains, to lead the fight against the Fire Nation."

"Where'd you hear all that?" Zuko asked suspiciously.

"Azula and I sometimes eavesdrop on the admirals," she confessed, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"So?" asked Mai. "She's a simpleton."

"Not when it comes to fighting Firebenders," Zuko pointed out, and started for the stairs, the servants falling silent and scattering.

"Zuko, where are you going?" Mai asked, following him for a few steps but stopping when he didn't bother to pause or even look back.

"The infirmary," he said, and bounded down the steps.

* * *

 _The buns are called daifuku, btw. Katara's just not familiar with them._

 _Well. Some shit went down in this chapter, none of which I am actually confident about. This is one of the chapters where different aspects of Katara's character shine through, aspects that she has shown hints of in the show but were never really addressed, and so I'm terrified that it comes across as wildly OOC. Katara's incredibly high emotional intelligence is something that is always shown as a 100% morally righteous type thing, but she could get pretty damn nasty sometimes, in the few instances in the show where she got really mad at people before her heart of gold caught up to her. She knows exactly what some people need to hear - but she also knows exactly what to say to make you hurt, to make you feel the way she wants you to feel._

 _I'm also not terribly confident with how I wrote Azula. If I butchered her please help me out. I think that she was a little less of a criminal mastermind at 10, and I want Azutara (friend)shippy moments, but if I can't do it properly I'd like to know how to do it better._

 _Also, fair warning: I am not a Mai fan. As a villain, I loved her, but as a love interest? No. Her "redemption" was shitty and she was just a fundamentally bad person before Bryke retconned everything (very poorly btw) to try to give some actual credence to the pairing. So I will not be portraying Maiko in a positive light here. I won't with Kataang, either, but seeing as their meeting and dynamic will be dramatically shifted, unlike Mai and Zuko's, there will just be less Kataang interaction all around._ _No offence to Kataang or Maiko or Mai or Aang fans. I just thought that they were not written in a healthy way, especially in season 3._

 _Please share your thoughts! I hope a few of you are still reading._


	10. Conversations

**HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT I'M NOT DEAD**

 **new laptop tho, which I hope excuses the long absence.** (it doesn't)

 **Man, this chapter _fought_ me. Each scene took me a month to finish and it's not even 3k words. I hope it's worth it? **(it's not)

 **Warning: there is an allusion to pedophilia in this chapter, and the character katara suspects of it does not deserve that bs. pls forgive her anyway, she's had a rough week.**

* * *

Katara woke up on something deliciously soft, and for a second she thought she was back on Hama's rug, dozing after a yet another grueling lesson. The painful heat on her back soon shattered that dream — Hama would _never_ burn her. She had beat her, cut her, hit her, and even given her frostbite before, but her wounds would always, always be healed. Katara's master was one of the only people in her life who did not take any pleasure in hurting her.

She lay perfectly still, suddenly but acutely aware that she was in unfamiliar enemy territory. She was on top of the softest thing she had ever touched, almost as comforting as the half-remembered furs of her home. A tentative sniff yielded pungent odors she remembered from the infirmary under the arena, and a slight shift told her that her torso had been tightly bandaged, and that the burn, while painful, hadn't destroyed her nerve endings.

"You're awake, then," said a low, slightly nasal voice. Katara tried to jump to her feet, but a flash of pain across her hip and part of her lower back made her think better of it.

She shifted gingerly to face the strange man, and was met with someone significantly less intimidating than she had expected. He was tall, but bony, with thinning hair and an even thinner moustache. He was impractically dressed in all white, with a few rusty splotches on his well-worn apron and the hems of his wide sleeves. A pretty, fascinatingly round young woman was standing behind him, her expression equal parts wary, disdainful, and curious. Katara had _heard_ of fat people before, but her company had only ever consisted of the battle hardened and the slowly starving.

"Where am I? And who are you people?" Katara rasped. She was on her front on some ridiculously luxurious bed, one of many in the colorless room. The last time she had seen so much white in one place was when she had still been in the South Pole. Her shirt was gone, but her chest had been bandaged along with her burn. She didn't have much of one to begin with, so the cursory attempt at preserving her modesty confused her; the Fire Nation did not bother to protect the dignity of their chattel.

"Master Akimasa is the palace physician," the woman said. Her tone implied that Katara was stupid for having to ask. "Who are you?"

"...Katara."

"I know _that_ ," the young woman sniffed, "But are you really a _princess?_ I didn't know that you ice rats even had royalty."

" _Ice rats_?" It was in moments like these that Katara wished she was as clever as her _aniingaq_ , and capable of a quick, snappy comeback. All she could do was sit there, mind furiously searching for a rejoinder that wouldn't get her killed.

"Ro _,_ " Akimasa cut in, "If you have time to chatter, you aren't working hard enough. Fetch the patient some water. These are basic duties you're shirking."

Ro shot him a dubious look. "Master, are you sure we should be giving water to a _Waterbender_?"

Akimasa sighed and rolled his eyes. "She's currently incapable of even standing, and I'm fully confident that I can turn the bed into a pyre if she tries anything, Puppetmaster or no Puppetmaster."

"Firebenders can heal?" Katara blurted. _How can someone heal with an element that only destroys?_

The physician predictably did not deign to answer her question. "How's your back feeling?"

"Fine." Even if it was somehow possible to heal with fire, she wanted no part of it. And, as injuries went, it could have been worse.

Akimasa gave her an unimpressed look. "I did see you try and fail to get up just now."

Katara grimaced. "I could manage it, I just figured that you would attack me while I was doing it."

"Ah," he said, a slight furrow in his brow, and moved on to poking at her bandages while asking a number of odd questions she couldn't see a point to, like exactly how she would "rate" her pain and how easily she could move different parts of her body. Were they recording it for Azula? Did she take notes on the injuries of her victims to learn how to maim more effectively in the future?

"I'm back," Ro announced, holding a miniscule, half-empty cup to Katara's chapped lips. "Try anything and the doctor will kill you." Ro dribbled half of it down her chin when she tilted it for her to drink, and Katara almost wanted to risk another burn to bend it from her bedspread and into her mouth.

The doctor caught a glimpse of her face and ordered Ro to fetch more, overriding her sneering protests and telling her to bring a bigger cup while she was at it. "And if you can really sit up, I expect you to put on a shirt," Akimasa said to her. "Two people visited while you were unconscious, though only Agni knows why. There are some fresh clothes at the end of the bed for you to wear, though you'll be giving them back as soon as you're well enough to return to your cell."

He didn't comment on her full-body flinch.

* * *

After Katara had been hydrated and made presentable, her first visitor arrived.

He was an old man, even rounder than Ro, with a long gray beard and a broad, open face. She watched warily as he exchanged pleasantries with the doctor and his assistant, making Ro's sour expression brighten and Akimasa's fatigue lessen. He was jarringly jovial, looking for all the world like a genial grandfather. He wouldn't look out of place in the tribal lodge, telling long-winded stories and bouncing babies on his knees.

 _No,_ Katara reminded herself. _He's Fire Nation. He's probably killed a bunch of people._

"Hello, Princess Katara," a warm, slow voice said, and Katara jumped, hissing when she jostled her wound. At some point he had sat on a stool near the foot of her bed, and was observing her with deceptively warm, curious eyes. She had to stop letting her mind wander; it would get her killed.

"Don't call me that," she said, her voice tight with suppressed hostility.

He quirked a brow. "Oh? I am sorry. I heard you were the daughter of the Southern Chieftain."

"I _am,_ " Katara growled. "That doesn't mean I'm a princess. I'm _nothing_ like Azula."

The old man's expression was diplomatically blank, but something in his amber eyes suggested that he didn't quite agree with her.

"Who are you?" Katara demanded. "Why are you here?"

"I simply want to know you better, Miss Katara," he said. "Please forgive an old man's curiosity."

Katara wasn't sure _what_ to make of that claim, even if it was almost certainly a falsehood. "...That doesn't answer my first question."

"Ah," he said, almost reluctantly, "My name is Iroh."

Katara thoughtfully narrowed her eyes. The name sounded familiar; perhaps she had heard her father speak of him before. He was most likely an admiral, then.

"How many of my people have you killed?"

Iroh sighed, folding his hands over his belly. "I was stationed in the Earth Kingdom. It is… uncommon for anyone but the Raiders to come across a tribesman."

"It's not uncommon for a tribesman to come across a Firebender. The man who stole me melted my mother's face." Katara had meant it as a barb, but her voice wavered when she said it. She had allowed far too many Firebenders to see her cry today.

Her gaze was focused on the floor, so as to hide the tears in her eyes, but his reply was soft and sad. "I doubt it means much, coming from me, but I am sorry for your loss, Miss Katara."

"She's not dead!" Katara yelled, snapping her head up to glare at him. Ro made as if to approach them, but Iroh stopped her with a sweep of his arm.

"I apologize for misunderstanding," Iroh murmured, eyes never leaving her own. "And I'm sorry that your mother was hurt."

Katara opened her mouth to call him a liar, but what came out was a soft, "Really?"

No citizen of this country had ever pretended to be kind before. They hadn't pretended to care about her suffering.

They hadn't pretended to care about her mother.

Iroh smiled at her, though his eyes were dark and pained. "I am, though I should not say so."

She couldn't help but smile back. After so long it kind of itched.

His smile widened, and he didn't say anything when a stray drop slipped down her face.

They sat together for a slow, quiet minute, Akimasa and Ro squabbling softly in the background. Katara took the time to tuck her fear under her skin, to breathe in deeply, to feel the pain in her body and catalogue it. She had been ignoring it until now, but the silence gave her time to think about what she would have done to heal it, if she were still under the arena. Hama wouldn't be pleased if she thought that Katara had forgotten all of her lessons on non-combative Waterbending.

"I will not take up your time any longer, Miss Katara," Iroh said, making her refocus on him. "My nephew visited you earlier, and I would like to tell him that you're awake, if you'd let me. I think you could learn from each other."

"Will you come again?" spilled out of her mouth before she could stop it. Iroh looked genuinely surprised, and gave her another smile that made her lips twitch up against her will.

"It would be my honor." He reached forward and took her hand between both his own, and she snatched it away. Illusion of kindness or not, he could sear her flesh in an instant if she let him touch her.

Instead of taking offence, Iroh gave her an apologetic grimace. He rose to his feet without the stiffness or the grunt of effort she had expected from a person his age. "Goodbye, Miss Katara. I hope to speak with you at greater length in the future."

"...Bye," she whispered, once the door sliding door had been pulled shut.

Katara sighed, and lay down again to wait for his mysterious nephew. Her hand skimmed under the pillow, and stilled when it brushed against something soft. She lifted it up, and uncovered a sweet bun.

* * *

She didn't know how long she sat there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the bun in her hand.

Who was Iroh really? He had mentioned being stationed in the Earth Kingdom; was he a soldier of some kind? But if that was true, then he was most likely a Firebender, and everyone knew that Firebenders were monsters. Every single one that she had ever met had hurt her in one way or another, and the nonbenders of this nation weren't much better.

Yet Iroh had been kind.

The only possible reason for his behavior was that he wanted something from her, something that violence would not yield as easily. But what did Katara have to offer, other than her use as leverage?

Katara's mind wandered back to her time in the defunct Waterbending prison, when the eyes of the guards on her body made her feel filthy and ashamed. Hama had warned her against being alone with any men…

Her thoughts shied away from the connection she had drawn. She was still a _child_ , in form if not in function; there had to be depths that even a Firebender would not sink to.

He had mentioned being stationed in the Earth Kingdom. Maybe he was a spy?

She couldn't make assumptions. Hama had warned her against it more than once. There was no point to thinking in circles if there was nothing she could do, anyway. Her goal was to stay alive.

The bun had begun to soften from the warmth of her palm. Part of Katara wanted to throw it away on principle, but…

She was so, so hungry.

Surely, if Iroh planned to hurt her, he would do it more directly than with poison, right?

Katara popped the whole thing in her mouth before caution could get the better of her, and chewed slowly, savoring the texture and the sweet bean paste within. It didn't make her as happy as the first time, when her despair had made any consideration precious, but she allowed herself a flash of gratitude when she finally swallowed.

At that moment, the sliding screen door flew open with a bang, causing Ro to drop the pestle she was using to grind medicine and Katara to choke. She doubled over, her hip burning in protest, hacking profusely.

Akimasa sighed, rubbing at his inner canthi, and bowed. Prince Zuko stood in the doorway, eyes wide as Katara did her level best to cough up a lung.

"Prince Zuko!" Ro exclaimed. She jumped from her stool and sank into as low a bow as her belly allowed her. "I'm so sorry that you must witness something so unsightly! I will take the patient away so that you may speak to Doctor Akimasa in peace."

Katara continued wheezing.

"Uh, no," Zuko said, "I'm here to talk to the Waterbender."

"Ro and I will be in the next room. Please send word if you require anything, Prince," said the doctor, his simpering assistant trailing behind him. They disappeared through what she had thought was a stationary screen. (Doors were still a little esoteric to her, considering that her home's architecture consisted of igloos and not much else.)

Zuko turned his head to someone out of view, and ordered, "Wait outside." There was a metallic echo of consternation — bodyguard, then — before the prince pushed the door shut in his face.

"...That was rude," Katara croaked.

He whirled to face her, mortally offended. "Was _not_."

Katara straightened up as best she could, gritting her teeth against the pain, and said, "Was _too_."

"Was _no—_ " Zuko's lips smacked shut abruptly, and the color rose high on his face. "This is idiotic. I didn't come here to argue with a _peasant_."

"You started it," Katara muttered, sneering at the tone he had taken with her. She could handle insults from adults, but insults from high-and-mighty ponytail boys whose voices didn't even crack yet was pushing the envelope. She had gotten enough of that from Sokka.

"Did not!" Zuko said reflexively, then realized his mistake.

Katara grinned despite herself. "Did _too_."

"Rrgh, shut up!" Zuko yelled, his ponytail bouncing furiously. She valiantly suppressed a snicker, but the look on her face just made him blush even brighter. He whirled around and made as if to stomp from the room.

"Wait, wait," Katara called, swallowing her giggles, and reached up as if to stop him, but the sudden movement pulled at the burn on her hip and back, and she couldn't stop a gasp of pain.

Her mirth crashed down around her as she curled in on herself. What was she _doing_?

Hesitant footsteps came to her bedside, and from the corner of her eye she could see the pointy toes of his dumb little boots. "...Are you okay?" he murmured.

Katara sat up as quickly as she could without crying out, which wasn't very quick at all, just so she could give him the stink eye that question deserved. " _No_."

The Fire Prince shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the doors as if he didn't want to be overheard. "I've been burnt by her too, though not as bad, but the pain medicine should be kicking in soon. So. It'll be okay."

"...Pain medicine?" Katara asked, furrowing her brow.

"Medicine that makes the pain go away, duh," Zuko said snottily.

"I know _that_." (She hadn't.) "Why would they give that to _me_?"

"...Oh," he said, then louder, "Of course they wouldn't! You're just a peasant, after all."

Katara narrowed her eyes at him. If she didn't know better, she might've thought he seemed almost… perturbed. "What do you _want_ , Fireboy?"

"My _name_ is Zuko," Zuko growled.

"And _my_ name is Katara, not _peasant_!"

"I knew that already!" he said, and then turned red again. "A-anyway, I didn't come here just to let you annoy me."

"Funny, I thought you came here just to annoy _me_ ," Katara mumbled.

He made an incoherent (but very expressive) outraged noise. "As if I care about you!"

"Then what _did_ you come here for?"

Zuko finally broke eye contact. Katara waited for a few long moments, and was just starting to get impatient when he whispered, "I came here for advice on how to fight my sister."

* * *

 **idk if this is a dun dun dunnnn moment. probably not. but it deserves some sort of dramatic music shift, imo.**

 **Let me know if you're still reading! I hope you are, at any rate.**


	11. Spar

**Happy New Year! Hopefully I get more writing done in 2019 than 2018, lol.**

* * *

"...But she's your _nayak,_ " Katara said. "Why would you ever fight her?"

"What in Agni's name is a _nayak_?" the Fire Prince sneered, butchering the pronunciation so terribly that she almost winced.

"She's your younger sister. You're _family_. How could you want to hurt her?" Katara said, her voice rising steadily. She knew that Firebenders were monsters, but the thought of anyone willingly raising a hand against their own _blood_ was unthinkable.

"I don't want to hurt her!" Zuko snapped, before catching himself. His eyes darted nervously toward the hallway, and then toward the neighboring room, before he whispered, "I don't want to hurt her, I just want to beat her. To prove myself."

"Anyone who wants you to fight your own family is someone who you shouldn't _want_ to prove yourself to!"

Zuko clapped a hand over Katara's mouth before she realized what he was doing. She could barely hear his next words over the blood roaring in her ears, her nostrils full of the phantom scent of cooked flesh and smoldering hair. "Would you be _quiet_ ," he hissed.

Katara slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me," she almost shrieked, and for a petrified heartbeat she mistook the burning and blurriness in her eyes as his handiwork.

"Oh, no, don't _cry,"_ Zuko moaned, hands hovering uselessly. "...Uh, I mean, how dare you hit me, peasant. I order you to stop crying at once!"

His tone was so helplessly awkward and panicked that she couldn't help the tiny giggle that escaped her at his expense. Her mind wandered back to the first time she had ever met him, when the sight of her tears had made him just as terrified and uncomfortable as it did now, and something coiled tight and prickly in her chest relaxed just a little bit.

"I can't h-help it," she choked, shoulders jerking with suppressed sobs, "I thought you were going to b-burn me."

"What?" Zuko exclaimed, looking genuinely horrified. "Why would I do that?! You're injured — and you're younger than me! It wouldn't be honorable."

"Hasn't stopped anyone before," Katara muttered, hand hovering over her side, which pulsed with pain every time she repressed another sob.

The Fire Prince scowled without seeming to realize he was doing it, glancing at her injury and away again. "Yeah, well, that was… that was necessary. Azula had to do it. You're a Waterbender, after all, a Southern Waterbender. You're dangerous."

"You think she's the only one who's hurt me?" Katara asked incredulously. "I've had much worse than this. Besides," she muttered, scrubbing her wrist across her eyes, "right now I don't feel very dangerous at all."

Zuko hummed in response, neither affirming nor denying, eyes once again fixed on her burn. He seemed lost in thought.

Katara scowled at being ignored, but it didn't get her hackles up quite like Azula's disregard did. The Fire Prince was annoying, but not as infuriating (or terrifying) as his little sister. It felt sort of… well.

Sort of like when Sokka acted like a jerk.

"All right," she said, breaking the silence that had built up between them.

"What?" the Fire Prince asked, as if he had forgotten she was there.

Katara frowned at him. "I said all right, I'll help you. First things first: don't zone out when I'm talking to you."

"I didn't _zone out_ , you impudent pea—"

"Hey, _you_ asked me for _my_ help, ponytail. Stop calling me a peasant," Katara snapped.

The Fire Prince sneered back. "Then what should I call you? _Princess_?"

"You know my name, so use it! Or would you rather call me sifu?"

Zuko's face flushed with what she could only assume was indignation. "I-I'm not calling a Waterbender my sifu!"

"Then shut up and _listen_."

Unsurprisingly, neither of them did much listening for the rest of the time he was there, too busy arguing for any advising to take place. Eventually Zuko had gotten so worked up that he accidentally set fire to the floorboards, and got chased off by an incensed Akimasa as Ro did her best to keep the flames from reaching the medicinal alcohol cabinet. (Katara fully expected Akimasa to pay it a visit for less than medicinal purposes soon, judging by how hard he was pinching the bridge of his nose.)

 _I guess his first lesson should be on self control,_ a tiny part of her brain whispered, the rest consumed with the knee-jerk panic that fire now inspired. She distantly registered Ro shrieking for a servant to bring water, having fully forgotten the supposedly dangerous Waterbender on the other side of the room.

Katara cast her net wide, straining for moisture, and felt some in the next room, behind the screen sliding door. She pulled it to her so quickly that it left a hole in the rice paper, and doused the fire before either Akimasa or Ro could lift a finger.

"...You could have left it to me, you know," Akimasa said wryly. "I may not be skilled enough to rely on my bending as a career path, but I _am_ capable of dispersing a tiny fire."

"You weren't doing anything, though," Katara pointed out.

"D-doctor Akimasa! She bent! She must be punished and put back in her cell!" Ro shrieked, trying to hide her bulk behind the doctor's stick-thin figure. If she hadn't been threatening to put her back down _there_ , Katara might have laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ro, even that tired her out," Akimasa said, and now that he mentioned it, Katara noticed that she felt awfully dizzy. Oh, hello pillow, when did you get here?

"...But remind me to remove all vases and basins within a fifty-foot radius of the infirmary. That range of hers is impressive, especially for one so young."

Katara only had time to smugly note the distance (she hadn't had an opportunity to fully test it under the arena, not in Hama's cramped little cell) before she was unconscious once more.

* * *

The next few days were long and boring. Akimasa mostly ignored her, focused on mixing medicines and giving them to various courtiers and servants who avoided her eyes when she was looking at them and gawked when she wasn't. When Ro wasn't running errands or shadowing Akimasa, she pestered Katara with ignorant, offensive comments and assumptions about "ice rats." Katara was going to chew off her tongue entirely with the amount of biting it she had to do.

However, Katara found herself reluctantly fascinated by Akimasa's work. She was surprised that a Firebender could be such a proficient healer, and her own tribe's medicines were vastly different from the Fire Nation's own. People came by for all sorts of cures, even for things as minor as headaches or muscle pains. (And other, more esoteric mixtures she didn't understand the purpose of. She figured that Akimasa was keeping secret Fire Nation techniques from her, though she didn't know why his reaction when she had asked what a "contraceptive" was was so extreme.)

Katara had never been particularly interested in the mechanics of healing. She had always thought of it as just another specialized bending technique, almost as useful as the _other_ things the Puppetmaster could do to the human body. However, thinking about the things she could do if she combined healing with Fire Nation medicine guiltily excited her. Hama would slap her if she voiced it out loud, but the Fire Nation might be good for more than just war and violence.

Not its people, of course. Just its knowledge.

When she wasn't thinking vaguely traitorous thoughts, she was trying _not_ to think about how much her burn hurt. She was used to pain, but not when it was this severe and prolonged.

 _What would sifu do?_ Katara wondered, when the pain was bad enough to make her tear up, and knew her answer.

So, whenever the room was dark enough or empty enough, Katara hurt herself. Not badly — she just pressed on her wound until her eyes spilled over and used what little moisture she produced to expedite the process. The saltwater hurt almost as much as intentionally irritating it did, but she was making progress. Ro was furious with her for messing up her dressings as often as she did (Katara still needed direct contact with the wound to heal it, which helped produce her water supply), but Akimasa often remarked on how well it was healing, so Katara figured she was doing _something_ right.

 _Of course I am. Hama's techniques are a million times better than his, and_ I'm _her student,_ she thought, and was surprised by the prick of pride that caused. She had very little to be proud of, these days.

Perhaps sensing this, the spirits just had to knock her down a peg. The door slid open, and Prince Ponytail stepped into the room.

* * *

"Hello, Prince Zuko. Come to set fire to my infirmary again?" Master Akimasa asked, not bothering to look away from the herbs he was grinding into powder at his work table.

His portly assistant, who had bounced to her feet as soon as she saw his face, let out a scandalized gasp. Zuko just felt embarrassed. The infirmary was important, and he nearly set burnt it down. What if someone had been hurt? His father had been extremely displeased by his childish lapse. Was Master Akimasa disappointed in him, too?

"My apologies, Master Akimasa. I… I lost control. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Master Akimasa harrumphed, but Zuko could tell that he was mollified. The palace physician had been tending to him since he was in diapers, after all.

Zuko hovered awkwardly by the door, and shot a glance at the Waterbender, who glared at him with her searing blue eyes. This settled him somewhat — at least he always knew how _she_ felt about him. He strode over to her and took a seat on a neighboring bed, waving off Ro's simpering offers to fetch him a chair or some refreshments.

"What do you want now?" the girl asked quietly, shooting a glance at the assistant.

"I still want your help, if you're still offering," Zuko said, just as quietly.

"Are you gonna take it or are you just gonna argue with me again?"

Zuko's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, struggling not to snap back at her. He had asked his uncle for advice about how to avoid getting into arguments with combative girls, and Iroh had told him that if he got riled up in response that was likely playing right into her hands. (Then he had spent the rest of their Pai Sho match interrogating him about which lovely young lady managed to get him so riled up in the first place, ignoring Zuko's insistence that _it's not like that, Uncle, and_ no _I'm not going to introduce you to her!_ )

"I want you to help me, so. Yes. I'll listen," he said, through gritted teeth.

She sat up, then visibly winced. Her eyes darkened, and she said, "I don't know why you want my advice, anyway. One fight and I came out like _this_."

"...You lasted longer than I did in any of our spars," Zuko admitted reluctantly, not liking the defeat that dampened her usually lively features. _Prisoners should be obedient, but if she breaks she's useless to me. Plus, Azula might actually kill her next time they spar._

It sounded like a justification, even in his own head. She was infuriating, but it was… sort of fun to bicker with her. It reminded him of summers on Ember Island, when Azula hadn't been so Azula yet. When his mother had been there.

"Did she ever burn you like this, though?"

"No, but not for lack of trying. Our teachers usually intervene before then," Zuko admitted, and saw her eyes sharpen when he said _usually._

"She's your sister. I don't think she wants to hurt you any more than you want to hurt her," the girl said, and despite her obvious dislike of him and however it was she felt about Azula, she sounded sincere.

That gave him pause, almost as much as her words did. Even his mother had thought the worst of his little sister, but this girl who might kill her, given the chance, was almost defending her. He couldn't chalk it up to naivete, because the Puppetmaster's apprentice was anything but, so where was this coming from?

"You don't know my sister," he said darkly. "Everything comes naturally to her. She thinks I'm weak so she walks all over me, and I can't do anything to stop her."

"Well, there's your problem. Your attitude is letting her win," she said, and Zuko bristled.

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it _is_. If your normal strategy isn't working, don't resign yourself to it. Change your approach."

"I'm not a Waterbender, I can't just _abandon_ all my efforts—"

"You're not abandoning them!" she snapped. "The Southern Water Tribe abandons _nothing_ and _no one_. We just focus our efforts on finding something that works!"

"I think you're forgetting that I'm not some _tribal peasant_ , I'm a prince of the Fire Nation!"

"Well, _this_ 'tribal peasant' came closer to beating your sister than you ever did!" the Puppetmaster's apprentice snarled, much more loudly than anything either of them had said before, and Zuko almost set the bed he was sitting on on fire in his anger.

"How _dare_ you—" shrieked the portly assistant.

"That's quite enough out of you," Master Akimasa said to his patient, having risen to his feet. "Prince Zuko—"

But Zuko, ears burning with shame and throat burning with smoke, was already storming from the room.

* * *

 **My chapters are always criminally short considering the time that it takes to write them, oops. Next time I'm hoping we'll see even more of the royal family! Poor Katara never gets a break. Please tell me what you thought!**


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